Presque Toujours Pur
by ShayaLonnie
Summary: Bellatrix's torture of Hermione uncovers a long-kept secret. The young witch learns her true origins in a story that shows the beginning and end of the Wizarding wars as Hermione learns about her biological father and the blood magic he dabbled in that will control her future.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings**: Rated M for explicit language, violence, mentions of non-con elements, implied child abuse, and sexual content. This story is Canon Divergent and contains both het and slash pairings. The narrative is non-linear, which means that it includes flashbacks (so for those who get a little confused, just double check the dates ) For further disclaimers and warnings, make sure to read my profile. This story is also currently being uploaded to Archive of Our Own. As the Ao3 version is uploaded, the corresponding chapter here on FFN will be edited to reflect an adherence to FFN's rules for explicit content. As of this moment, the FFN version is complete and unedited for content. [Updated Jan 2017.]

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda, Nykizta, and azuthlu.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur  
**_Almost Always Pure_

**Chapter One**  
_Pater_

* * *

**April 1998**

Hermione sat in the first-floor drawing room of Black Manor, staring straight ahead at the large tapestry that hung on the stone wall. It had weathered many generations, protected by strong family magic, and all the names that were magically embroidered in perfect calligraphy still stood out in black stitching among the Slytherin green background.

Raised voices argued in the room next to her. The door was closed, but no Silencing Charm had been cast; she couldn't, for the life of her, comprehend why the people on the other side hadn't thought to do so. The sheer volume and intensity of their shouts were liable to wake the Muggle neighbours, who were currently unaware that a number twelve existed between numbers eleven and thirteen, Grimmauld Place: the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

"I should have been told!" Sirius screamed. His voice was hoarse and emotional; he had been yelling for hours and crying for days prior to the start of this particular argument.

Hermione couldn't be sure exactly what any previous altercations consisted of, as she had been unconscious for most of them.

She had woken up in the guest chamber adjacent to the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, initially not realising where she was. A familiar set of worried emerald green eyes stared back at her from within the darkened room, red-rimmed with dark circles beneath indicating a severe lack of sleep. Harry hadn't slept well for the majority of the year but, then again, none of them had. Constantly being on the move and hunting for Horcruxes didn't allow for proper midday kips and stress-induced insomnia had been detrimental to everyone's health.

"How long?" Hermione whispered.

Harry gripped her hand tightly. "Four days," he muttered softly. "Gods, Hermione, I thought you were . . ." he said, his voice cracking as the memory of her echoing screams floated through his mind.

She reached out, muscles weak, and lightly ruffled his permanently messy black hair until he cracked a smile and tears flowed out in earnest, which was actually what she had been trying to prevent knowing how Harry hated it when people saw him get too emotional. She felt guilty for putting him in such an emotionally fragile state. Taking care of Harry had become second nature to the young witch who had spent six years forcing him and Ron to do their homework, and the better part of a seventh making sure they were eating, even if it was only wild mushrooms and the little bits of fish they were able to catch anytime they found themselves camped near rivers and lakes.

"Did everyone else make it out?" she asked.

Harry frowned. "Dobby," he whispered.

Hermione felt a tight pain in her chest she knew to be grief. It was amazing that she still wasn't numb to the feeling. "Oh, Harry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"Ron said that Bill and Fleur buried him in the garden of Shell Cottage," he told her. "I haven't been by to visit, but Ron says it's beautiful. Bill carved a headstone and Luna arranged flowers," he said softly. "Ollivander, Griphook, and Dean got out safe as well."

"Why aren't _we _there?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "When . . . when everything happened at Malfoy Manor," he said the word with disgust, "Dobby was taking us to Shell Cottage like I told him to but . . . he'd been injured mid-Disapparition and we ended up separating from him and Ron when he . . . I don't know why, but I was holding onto you and I knew I had to take over or else we'd get splinched, so I thought of Grimmauld Place."

They hadn't been to Number Twelve since September. Since they had accidentally led Yaxley, who had tailed them via Apparition, to the steps of Black Manor. Hermione managed to kick the Death Eater off and immediately Apparated herself, Harry, and Ron elsewhere which ended with Ron splinched and their Horcrux hunt delayed several days. Harry had sent a Patronus immediately to Sirius, telling him that Grimmauld Place may have been compromised and to get to safety.

The teenagers had waited for three weeks before the familiar image of a large silvery Grim wisped its way in the opening of their tent, informing them, in Sirius's voice, that he had gotten out in time and, thanks to some clever spell-work which he "wasn't at liberty to discuss" (which could only mean illegal and very likely in the grey tones of light and Dark Magic), that the Ancient and Noble House of Black was safe once more.

They had sent word back telling Harry's godfather of their safety and nothing more. Grimmauld Place had been a decent hideout in the beginning, but they had put it, and Sirius, at risk far too easily just by staying there when they should have been out, physically tracking down Horcruxes. Eight months since the official beginning of the hunt and they were only one locket down. Hermione had wondered to herself how long it had taken Dumbledore to figure out how to destroy the Gaunt ring. Despite not knowing that it had been a Horcrux as well, it had taken Harry a full school year to destroy Tom Riddle's diary — though it hadn't been in his possession the entire time — but going off of those numbers didn't bode well for the rest of the Horcruxes. They couldn't very well spend the next three to four years on the run trying to destroy the dark vessels in the hopes that Voldemort didn't destroy their world in the process.

"Why Grimmauld Place?" she asked curiously. "Why not Shell Cottage? We were already supposed to have been going there."

Harry frowned and reached out to wrap one of Hermione's curls around his finger, a habit he fell into whenever he was nervous, "I . . . I guess I was thinking of Sirius," he whispered.

Hermione winced as memories of Malfoy Manor flashed through her mind.

* * *

_"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback," Bellatrix ordered the deranged werewolf. _

_"Wait." The wicked witch hesitated, her heavy-lidded eyes staring at Hermione. "All except_ . . . _except for the Mudblood."_

_They had been on the run for so long, tired and broken and one small slip of the tongue and Snatchers were at their doorstep — or tent flap as it was. Hermione had hastily thrown up a series of complex wards to keep them out while she turned and began altering their features. Her own would have been easily looked over had her face not been plastered all over the _Daily Prophet_ for months labelling her a known Muggle-born associate of Harry Potter, but Ron and Harry's features were unavoidably recognisable. While there were redheads all over Wizarding Britain, that vibrant shade of red, paired with specific facial features spoke only of the Weasleys. In addition to Harry's scar, his ethereal, emerald green eyes were a dead giveaway. _

_She had changed her own hair to a dirty-blond and adjusted the shape of her nose, gave Ron a head of brown hair, and altered Harry's eye colour to brown before she tried to glamour the scar on his forehead. Nothing happened. In a panic, as the Snatchers gave up on taking down the wards and had resorted to ripping through them, Hermione had hit him in the face with a Stinging Hex, muttering apologies to her best friend as a hideous werewolf descended upon them all._

_The glamours hadn't been strong enough. They had still been partially recognised by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, but Bellatrix had called for Draco to confirm their identities. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat as the insane witch grabbed her nephew by the back of the skull and shoved him so close to Hermione's face that her vision was filled with nothing except the trademark molten silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. _

_When Bellatrix finally let Malfoy out of her personal bubble, she took the opportunity to really look at him. Draco looked much worse than when she last saw him, as he fled from Hogwarts on the heels of Severus Snape, Harry screaming, "Murderer!" behind them. Draco had looked terrible for most of sixth year, and while Harry had spent the majority of time at school insisting that Malfoy was a Death Eater plotting a plot most terrible (which, apparently, he _had _been), Hermione took notice of the way the Slytherin's clothes hung off his body too loosely, how he never ate in the Great Hall, rarely spoke in class, and during Prefect rounds she had caught him hyperventilating more than once in dark alcoves._

_Now, he looked much worse. Sickly thin and pale with dark circles under his stress-induced, red-rimmed eyes, the Slytherin stared at her with obvious recognition and swallowed hard, taking a moment to presumably come up with a lie. Apparently, the best that he could summon at that moment was, "I can't be sure. It might be them, but I'm not certain."_

_Regardless, Hermione appreciated the lie. Considering the worried looks on Bellatrix and the elder Malfoy's faces, they would have needed to be one-hundred percent certain before summoning Voldemort and Hermione was grateful for the seedling of doubt that Draco had planted in their minds. Unfortunately, with a certain famous sword discovered in their possession and Bellatrix Lestrange determined to get back in the good graces of her Dark Lord, they were not even close to seeing the clearing of the woods._

_Harry and Ron were taken away, screaming and pleading to stay in exchange for the witch. "No!" Harry was yelling, fighting against the grip of the werewolf. "Take me instead!" Ron had shouted as they dragged him away into the cellar of Malfoy Manor. Even Draco seemed to twitch in understanding of what was to happen to the young Muggle-born witch, but whatever he might have thought to do to stop his aunt, his parents were gripping his arms to keep him still and silent, Lucius digging fingernails into the skin of his son in anxious anticipation._

_The first Crucio felt like death._

_The second made her pray for it._

_But it wasn't until Bellatrix's frustration began to peak that things took a genuine turn for the worse. Determined to find out who exactly she was dealing with, the unhinged witch had aimed her wand at Hermione and began to dismantle the glamours she had put on herself, spell by spell. Any normal witch or wizard with a decent understanding of transfiguration could have ended the visual trickery easily, but Bellatrix Lestrange's thirst for control and desire to witness agony led her to do it as painfully as possible._

_It felt like she had clawed her way into Hermione's magical core and began picking it away, looking for physical traits and casting them aside, piece by piece until the truth revealed itself. When she had apparently broken through the glamour, what she saw only enraged the witch further._

_"What are you playing at little girl?!" the woman had screamed. "You dare mock me?!"_

_Hermione was beyond exhausted, sobbing, and could not understand what conclusion Bellatrix's insane mind had drawn together. _

_"I'll teach you_ . . ._" the older witch snarled and then Hermione felt a stabbing pain in her arm. Thankfully, it wasn't long after that she had been rescued by her friends and taken to safety. To the safety of Grimmauld Place._

* * *

"My . . ." She looked down to her forearm which was now bandaged. "Harry . . . what happened?" she asked her friend.

Harry decided the best way to breach the subject was by visual representation. He reached into the drawer of the bedside table and removed a mirror from within, handing it slowly to the witch who snatched it from his grip, bringing it to her face. She didn't know why it hadn't shocked her to see it. Bellatrix's reaction to the broken glamours might have been a clue, but as Hermione took in her sudden abundance of black curls and grey eyes, she understood, at least in part, what had happened.

Somehow when the insane witch had broken Hermione's glamours, she had done something else, revealing the colouring that Hermione now wore. While Hogwarts didn't offer classes in biology and genetics, Hermione understood enough of the principles and the magical theories to know that certain traits solely belonged to certain families. A specific shade of red and freckles meant Weasley; golden blond hair and blue eyes made you a Greengrass; crimson hair and blue eyes led to the Bones family tree; dark skin and green eyes belonged to the Zabinis; and white-blond hair and silver eyes told the world that you were a Malfoy.

Inkjet black hair and grey eyes distinguished a witch or wizard from all others, proudly proclaiming one's blood linked to the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Harry helped her to stand, her hands shaking slightly as she put the mirror down on the bed and stood to her feet. Her best friend led her into the drawing room to face the infamous Black family tapestry. It hadn't taken her long to see it and when she did her breath caught in her throat and Harry needed to support her weight as her knees buckled.

He wrapped her in his arms as he lowered her to the ground, sitting with her, kissing the top of her head as he whispered, "Your arm wouldn't stop bleeding and when we got here . . . Sirius carried you up the stairs and you bled a lot on the floor. The . . . the house is magical and sentient in itself. Charmed like Hogwarts to recognise certain things and . . . people."

"Blood wards," Hermione mumbled.

Harry nodded.

"Kreacher actually healed you," he said, gesturing to her arm.

She turned and stared at the boy incredulously, her newly discovered grey eyes were wide.

"He's calling you his special Young Miss," Harry said, cringing at the memory of the house-elf cooing over his best friend. Whispers of, "_Young Miss_, _special Young Miss,"_ echoed as he had watched the Elf Magic heal the cuts on Hermione's arm. When Kreacher saw the angry red words and scarring that was left behind, Harry witnessed the house-elf punish himself, almost creating a dent in the marble fireplace mantle. Harry couldn't decide which he preferred, Kreacher calling Hermione "the little Mudblood" or "special Young Miss". He shuddered at the memory of the house-elf caressing the word carved on her arm, muttering beneath his breath. If there had been any silver lining it was that the curtains covering Walburga Black's portrait had remained shut, and Kreacher hadn't cried out for his "poor Mistress" once since he had started tending to Hermione.

Sirius and Snape burst through the door, continuing to yell at one another until each man turned to stare at Hermione and Harry there on the floor in the drawing room. Neither said a word. Snape looked positively wrathful and Sirius had obviously been crying. The current Headmaster of Hogwarts and accused murderer of Albus Dumbledore gave each of his former students a curt nod before stepping into the adjacent bedroom. Sirius gave Hermione a pained smile before following after Snape, slamming the door behind him.

"Is . . . is Sirius angry?" Hermione asked, trying to prevent the tears from falling down her cheeks.

Harry shook his head. "Not at . . . and not about . . . he's just . . ." Harry sighed and scratched his head. "He's mad that it was kept from him," he said.

Almost on cue, the screaming between the grown wizards began again.

"We need to figure out the next Horcrux," Hermione whispered and moved to stand.

Harry's grip tightened as he held her down. "Absolutely not," he said. "You were tortured Hermione, and . . . and I don't think you should even be moving much until you're fully recovered. Don't look at me like that, I . . . I told them. I told the Order what we've been trying to do."

Hermione gasped. "Harry!"

"I don't care," he said. "I know Dumbledore said that only the three of us could know but . . . after everything that's happened, I think secrets for this supposed 'Greater Good' has done nothing but hurt people," he said, frowning. "After we escaped, the Malfoys summoned Riddle . . . there was a big Death Eater meeting where everyone was told what happened. Snape found out and came straight here. He knew," Harry told her. "He brought you potions and a bunch of books; I'm not sure what they are," he admitted. "But he's left his post at Hogwarts with some kind of lie to the Death Eaters, and he told the Order some things about how Dumbledore really died."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Harry, you told me you saw him kill —"

Harry sighed. "I . . . there's a lot more to it than what I saw . . . apparently."

"So Snape's . . .?"

"A good guy," Harry said almost disappointedly.

"And Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"Still a ferrety git," Harry answered. "But he didn't give us away so . . . I don't know." He frowned.

"So the two of you will soon become best friends?" she tried to joke.

Harry laughed. "How are you . . ." he began to say and then sighed. "Are you okay? I know this is a lot to take in, and I'm sure once _those two_ are done screaming at one another, they'll answer whatever questions you have."

Hermione nodded. "I . . . I had a feeling something was . . . wrong," she admitted. "When I Obliviated . . ." she swallowed. "Last summer, when I Obliviated my p-parents," her voice wavered as she collected her emotions and thoughts, "I felt that something was wrong. I meant to only alter their memories with a charm, nothing permanent," she confessed, "but when I started layering the magic, I found things. They had already had their memories altered by someone else. I couldn't see what exactly, but they were specific and it took me a while, but I was able to trace the origin of the charm back years."

"How long?" Harry asked.

"I can't pinpoint a specific day but . . ." she frowned, "I would say close to the end of 1981."

Harry's eyes widened with a bit of understanding. "You think this happened because of me?" he asked, horrified.

"Of course not," she insisted. "Even if it has something to do with what happened to _your _parents," she told him, "It's not your fault. I really wish you would stop blaming the entire war on you. You're not Tom Riddle's endgame, Harry, you're the mountain that's preventing him from destroying everything we know and love. It's not your fault."

Harry nodded solemnly but turned away from her gaze. "So . . . what happened with your parents?" he asked a moment later.

"The Memory Charms were too deep. I couldn't alter them without erasing it all," she muttered, swallowing down her emotions. "That's why I chose to Obliviate them. Permanently."

Harry reached for her hand. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"It'll keep them safe," she whispered. "So . . . tell me about the plan. How is the Order involved?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, another Horcrux is destroyed," he told her. "When we got here, you were out of it, but you kept muttering something about Bellatrix's vault. Snape confirmed that she thought the Sword of Gryffindor was in her vault, but that something else might be hidden away as well. The Order had Tonks morph herself to look like Bellatrix. I'm not sure of all the details of how they got it out without being found, but Tonks had burns all over her body when they brought her back. Turned out to be Hufflepuff's Cup, like we thought. Sirius was the one to destroy it. Said he really wanted to stab something." He shrugged.

"And the others?" Hermione asked.

"Snape thinks it could be the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. He's got McGonagall and the D.A. looking for it while he's here," Harry told her. "The last, we think, is the snake."

"Where's Ron?" she asked.

Harry winced. "He . . . he's a little freaked out about . . ." he made a vague gesture to her face, "Well, you know he's not the most tactful person. We thought it would be a little better if he stayed at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur until he figured out how to talk to you."

Hermione frowned. "Because I'm different."

"Because you _look _different," Harry corrected her.

Hermione sighed loudly. "No, I'm . . . oh gods," she muttered. "I'm a _pureblood_." She swallowed the word down like sand. "From a family that . . . that . . ." She looked down at her arm. "And she . . ." She reached out and touched the bandage on her arm. "Well," she frowned, "I'm not a Mudblood anymore," she said bitterly.

"You never were," Harry said, glaring at her use of the word. "You're just Hermione."

"Why is Professor Snape here?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. "I mean, he brought me potions and books but —"

Harry shrugged. "Apparently, he knew the truth."

"This whole time?"

"Well, Sirius has been screaming at him for the better part of four days," Harry said. "It's only now that Snape's finally started yelling back actually," he added, looking at the closed door of the bedroom where the Potions Master and Animagus were still shouting.

"— I should have been told!" Sirius screamed, his voice hoarse and emotional. "How could you keep a bloody secret like this for so long?! She's nearly nineteen-years-old!"

"Well," Snape drawled, "unlike _you_, Black, I actually _keep secrets_," hissing out the last words with emphasis. "I don't just toss them aside to the first blubbering idiot I think can —"

The distinct sound of fist on flesh echoed from behind the heavy wood. What sounded like a noisy scuffle followed by colourful lights of hexes emitted from the seam around the door, the bright light of a _Petrificus Totalus_ filtered under the crack near the floor, followed by a loud thud and the room went silent.

Sirius exited, shutting the door behind him and pocketing his wand as he slowly approached the pair of teenagers, kneeling down in front of them, running his hand nervously through his hair. He smiled sadly at Hermione and reached out to brush the edge of his knuckles affectionately against her cheek.

"Hey, little girl," he whispered, "You had us scared there for a while."

The tears finally came to her eyes and she blinked, allowing them to fall against her cheeks. "Is it true?" she asked him even though she already knew the answer.

Sirius wiped the back of his hand against his own eyes and nodded silently before reaching out and pulling the witch into his arms, letting her sob into his shoulder. "It's all right, Hermione," he said, stroking her black curls tenderly. "Everything's going to be fine," he promised. "You and I . . . we're going to be fine and we're going to find out everything."

"You're not mad?" she asked.

"At _you_? Whatever for?" He chuckled softly. "I'm bloody _thrilled _about _you_. Pissed about not knowing," he admitted as he pulled away from her, "I'm pissed about a lot of things that were kept from me," he said softly and leant forward, kissing her forehead. "I'm just glad you're alive and there's a little piece of . . ." his words stuck in his throat. "I'm just glad you're alive," he said.

"I don't . . . I don't even know what to call you anymore," she admitted awkwardly.

Sirius smirked. "Sirius is fine," he said softly. "You're a little too old to start calling me Uncle, I think," he admitted and pulled her again into his arms.

She blinked tears away again, her blurry vision focused on the tapestry on the wall behind Sirius where her name sat in elegant lettering.

_Hermione Astra Black _

_b. September 19, 1979_

Her gaze followed the line that flowed from her up to her father:

_Regulus Arcturus Black _

_b. May 12, 1961 d. May 31, 1979_

* * *

**A/N**: Yes, this does mean that Hermione and Draco are technically second cousins. No, you do not need to point this out to me, I was aware of it before I wrote it. It's well known that the Black family and most pureblood families intermarried for generations. If it's not your cup of tea, I totally understand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love:** Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene, some which may or may not include consenting minors (no adult/minor pairings). _**Specific Chapter Warning**_ for child abuse.

**A/N**: I can't believe how many of your favorited and followed and reviewed the first chapter of this story. THANK YOU! Also, I clearly have an impatience problem. Fluffy was supposed to help stop me from posting early, but then she started telling me that it would be a great April Fool's prank to post a teaser for Chapter 2 and then leave you all waiting for another week. She's a Gryffindor for the record. My Slytherin ways have clearly been a bad influence on her. Next she'll be making Horcruxes. I'm so proud. Here is the entire Chapter 2 of PTP, by the way. Some changes have been made from Canon regarding Narcissa and Lucius's ages in order for them to have been closer to Regulus while they were all in Hogwarts.

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**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Two

_Fides_

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**April 1973**

Regulus stood in the first floor drawing room of Black Manor staring straight ahead at the large tapestry that hung on the stone wall. While it had witnessed many ages, it was protected by strong family magic, all the names magically embroidered in perfect calligraphy; his own being the most recent even though he was already eleven-years-old, twelve in a month's time. The names all stood out in black stitching amongst the Slytherin green background. He had always found the colour comforting, not cold like his brother always claimed it to be. Raised voices argued in the room next to him. The door was closed, but no Silencing Charm had been cast, but really, when did his parents ever actually bother with one?

"You can't do that!" Sirius was yelling. "She didn't do anything wrong!"

"She has disgraced her family and our noble blood!" their mother shouted back at him.

Regulus stepped closer to the tapestry, a subtle frown on his face as he reached up and gently brushed his fingertips over the scorched mark that used to read _Andromeda_.

"It's not fair!" Sirius shouted and Regulus winced. "You can't just throw away family!"

When would his brother begin to understand that nothing in life was fair? Brave and reckless, certainly, but there had to be at least an ounce of common sense in every Gryffindor. How else would they have even survived long enough to even make it to Hogwarts?

The youngest Black turned his back on the tapestry, the smell of the burnt silk fresh and lingering in the air; it made his stomach churn to have watched his mother turn and blast the name so easily off the Family Tree, as if she was banishing something as simple as a doxy off the wall. He felt sick to know that across London in another one of the Black Manors, his Uncle Cygnus, Andromeda's father, was doing the same to the duplicate tapestry in his home. Regulus thought it was redundant considering the tapestries were all magically linked, but his Uncle Cygnus was likely making a point to his daughters, just as Walburga and Orion Black had made the point to him and Sirius.

The message was clear: Don't marry Mudbloods.

And for the love of Salazar, don't even _think _about _breeding _with them.

"You can't throw someone out of the family for falling in love!" Sirius was yelling again. "What if it were me or Regulus that fell in love with a —" He never finished the sentence. Though there was no loud sound from behind the door save for a slight scuffle, Regulus had learned over the years what the _small _noises meant.

Despite disagreeing with the way Sirius was going about it, Regulus agreed with his brother. Certainly they had been raised with blood standards that were always to be observed (unless, of course, your name was Sirius Black) but blasting Andromeda off the tree and disinheriting her completely seemed excessive. Regulus knew little in matters of the heart, but he had seen the older couples at Hogwarts, most of whom looked as though they had lost entire sections of their brains just by being within sight of the witch or wizard they desired. Clearly, there was little control when it came to who you fell in love with.

He, of course, never thought he would have to worry about it. He had been told on his fourth birthday — when his magic first manifested — that one day he would grow up and marry his cousin Narcissa, Uncle Cygnus's youngest daughter, who was just a few years older than Regulus himself. It wasn't until he was eight that he truly understood what "marry" meant, and at the time it hadn't seemed so bad. When he turned eleven and got the pre-Hogwarts talk, he finally learned what the actual purpose of marriage actually was: setting political alliances, money, and reputation aside, it all came down to strengthening and furthering the pure bloodlines. Suddenly, marrying Narcissa seemed a bit more bothersome.

They only saw one another while growing up at family functions, and even then, most of the attention had been on Sirius and Andromeda who were being coerced into a betrothal themselves, though Andromeda was fighting it tooth and nail, much to Sirius's great relief. It was, however, the reason that Regulus and Narcissa were contracted at such a young age; it was much easier to control children when they didn't know better than to fight back.

He loved Narcissa, but in a sisterly way, which made the idea of _breeding _with her in the future positively horrific, but he wasn't as bold or brash as his brother to think of saying such things aloud. Leave the dramatics to Sirius and Andromeda. Of course, he wouldn't exactly be seeing Andromeda anytime soon if ever again. Nor would he ever get the chance to meet her daughter, a half-blood Metamorphmagus that she named Nymphadora.

He had seen his brother pocket the photograph of the tiny purple-haired infant knowing without a doubt that if he got caught with it, the bruises he would wear back to Hogwarts would likely match the little girl's hair. Sirius didn't appear to give a damn though, as he decided to say loudly in the other room, and he never had no matter what the consequences had been.

And the consequences had _always _been dire.

Growing up in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had been uncomfortable to say the least. Their parents only ever handed out affection when they were in public, and even then it was only ever given to Sirius who was the wonderful heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, unless of course he wasn't behaving like the wonderful heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, in which case they had Regulus, the wonderful _spare_. It wasn't until Sirius went to Hogwarts that Walburga and Orion even considered really putting effort into raising their younger son, but when Sirius had written home after the Sorting, it was all systems go for Project Scion Swap.

Regulus had been heartbroken that his brother, his best friend, would leave to Hogwarts a year ahead of him, and despite their father telling them that boys didn't cry and they certainly didn't hug one another, especially in public, it took both parents to separate the pair at Kings Cross. Sirius knelt down in front of his younger brother and wiped the tears from Regulus's face as the scarlet steam train whistled its warnings of departure.

"Look for my owl; I'll write to you every week, Reg," Sirius promised him with a bright grin that made him look completely out of place among his family at all times, "and once you get to Hogwarts, we're going to have so much fun. I promise I won't even care that you're a year younger. I'll sneak you into my dorm and it'll be just like at home only better. You and me, Reg," he had smiled, "the Black brothers are going to conquer Hogwarts. They'll be talking about our adventures for centuries."

Sharing a dorm would never happen, of course. Sirius had taken three weeks to finally owl home and, when the letter did finally arrive, Walburga had sent a Howler back in its place.

"You can hardly blame the boy for what a charmed Hat says," Orion had tried to calm his wife down, a glass of firewhisky in his hand to help dull the ache in his head that Walburga's current volume had created.

"Don't you _dare _try to let him off the hook for this!" she had screamed back. "I _know _he did something. He must have done something to disgrace our family this way."

_Gryffindor._ Centuries of grand green and silver tradition broken by a single boy who their mother said was far too disrespectful, too reckless, and too sentimental. They shouldn't have coddled him so much. They shouldn't have let him outside so often. They, perhaps, shouldn't have let the boys spend so much time together. They had instilled courage in their eldest son by letting him be protective over his younger brother and Blacks weren't supposed to be protectors, they were self-preservationists. Family first, and that didn't mean one another, it meant the name, the motto, the _blood_. Regulus would need to be educated from scratch. Sirius would need to be reminded his place.

When Sirius returned home for Christmas holidays he was a full Gryffindor; a lion in and out which was ironic considering it had been Regulus that was named after the brightest star in the Leo constellation. "Rubbish!" his mother had said. "Star or not, your name means 'Basilisk' in Latin; King of the serpents!" Serpent, unlike his brother, the disgraceful lion who was already being labeled a blood-traitor simply because a shoddy old hat told him that he would sleep in a tower and not a dungeon for the next seven years.

Sirius had been stubborn and proud and, even at only twelve, he was eager to argue back and defend his new House loyalties. He openly talked about his new friends with a joyful look on his face that their mother said made him look embarrassingly effeminate. Sirius ignored her and went on and on about James Potter ("Disgusting son of blood-traitors!"), Remus Lupin ("Wasn't his father a wizard from a good family who threw away his future when he married a Muggle?"), and Peter Pettigrew ("Who?"). By the time Sirius was bragging about Albus Dumbledore — who he said was the greatest wizard since Merlin — and Professor McGonagall — who he knew had a Hogwarts rivalry with Walburga when they had attended school together and, therefore, should know better than to mention her name — both of their parents were officially done with their eldest's smart mouth and blood-traitor language.

Christmas that year had been spent in St. Mungo's after there had been an "accident" where Sirius "fell" down three flights of stairs. Regulus had been forced to open his presents at the foot of Sirius's hospital bed while his brother looked on, drowsy from Pain Potions as their mother told him that only _good _boys received gifts. Summer was worse when Sirius worked his way around the underage magic rule by nicking their father's wand and charming the walls of his room Gryffindor red. Another trip to St. Mungo's had Sirius drinking down Skele-Gro after he "fell from his broom" and broke three ribs and his collarbone.

Memories of the bruises, broken bones, and welts on his brother's body flooded Regulus's mind when he was brought into the Great Hall beside the other first years. He stared out into the crowd and found Sirius's face immediately, grinning, waving, and throwing him a thumbs up.

"Black, Regulus!" Professor McGonagall called his name and gestured to the stool in the front of the room.

When he slowly made his way to sit down he was shaking and terrified, trying to hold it all in so as not to appear completely frightened. No need to be called a crybaby on the first night in whatever House he ended up in. _Not brave_, he thought to himself. _I'm definitely not brave_.

_You could be_, the Sorting Hat said inside his mind. _You have great potential to be very brave and bold. I see greatness in you. Your heart is large and loyal to those you care about, and your concern for others is astounding. I wonder what brave things you could accomplish when that bold love is properly directed?_

_I don't want it_, Regulus had pleaded, thinking of the way Sirius had finally broken down and cried in the middle of the night long after their parents had locked him in his room to nurse his wounds two weeks before they had been taken to Kings Cross. Sirius had fought back at every turn, appearing stubborn and angry, but the moment he was alone, he quietly sobbed, cradling his injuries in private.

Regulus tried like hell to get in to help his brother, but their mother had locked the door with magic and, even if Sirius had been allowed to use it outside of Hogwarts, she had taken his wand too. So Regulus quietly sat outside of Sirius's bedroom, whispering what words of comfort he could think of that might not get him hit too hard if their parents caught him. When Sirius had finally fallen asleep, Regulus closed his eyes and wished that he knew the kind of magic that would give them both a different family; one without expectations and rules based on blood and Houses and the colour of robes you wore to class.

_Slytherin, please, just put me in Slytherin,_ Regulus begged.

"Better be . . . SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shouted.

Regulus let out a deep sigh of relief and scanned the Great Hall until his gaze fell on a matching pair of grey eyes sitting beneath red and gold banners. Sirius frowned and looked down, clearly devastated. A lanky boy with sandy-blond hair next to him patted him on the back consolingly; two other boys sitting across from him — one short and a bit portly, the other tall with a head of messy black hair — pushed a couple boxes of Chocolate Frogs toward their friend to cheer him up.

Regulus slowly made his way to the Slytherin table where he was politely welcomed and sat down beside a second year with a curtain of black hair hiding away a scowl, the only thing easily visible was a hooked nose that wasn't proportionate to the rest of his face.

"Black?" the boy asked, sneering at Regulus.

Regulus nodded.

"Are you related to the Gryffindor prat?"

Regulus cleared his throat, remembering that, while he wasn't brave like Sirius, he couldn't show fear, not in Slytherin or else be labeled weak. "My brother," he said firmly. "Is there a problem?" he asked, narrowing his gaze.

The older boy rolled his black eyes and looked away, a bitter expression on his face. "Not unless you're anything like him."

_No_, Regulus thought sadly, _I'm nothing like Sirius._

The bedroom door finally opened from the next room and Sirius was wiping blood from his mouth looking wrathful but sufficiently subdued when it came to speaking to his parents. There was nothing to be done to spare Andromeda from being disowned. He slammed the large wooden door behind him and walked straight up to Regulus, gripping him by the shoulders. "She's still our cousin, do you hear me?" he said firmly. "I don't give a shite what some stupid wall says; Dromeda's still family. A giant piece of fabric does not get to tell me who my family is, _I_ say who my family is. You agree with me, right?" he asked his younger brother, unaware that his lip was bleeding again.

Regulus frowned at the sight, wondering how his older brother was able to endure such pain. The beatings weren't as bad as they could be, he imagined. Though there wasn't much confirmation, they had both overheard their parents talking to one another about how Cygnus — or Bellatrix, as was her want to do — had put Andromeda under the Cruciatus Curse when they had discovered her elopement and secret half-blood child.

"Sirius why . . . why can't you just shut up and look down like you're supposed to?" he asked, staring at the swelling on his brother's lip. "Next she'll blast _you _off," he whispered. "You can't let her do it," Regulus said firmly, not wanting to admit that he was afraid such a thing would actually happen and _he _would be left in Sirius's place. "Just . . . just stay quiet for the next couple of years and you'll be out of here."

Sirius shook his head. "I'm not a coward," he insisted.

Regulus flinched at the statement, despite knowing that Sirius hadn't said it as a way of calling out his brother on his own cowardice. "Why does it always come down to bravery?" Regulus asked bitterly.

"Why does it always come down to saving your own arse?" Sirius snapped back. "Fine, she's not your cousin anymore. Am_ I_ still your brother? Because Dromeda's still on _my _family tree. Fuck _that _one," he said, snarling at the tapestry.

Swearing and anger aside, Regulus knew Sirius was hurting. Andromeda had been the perfect pureblood daughter, right up until the moment that she wasn't. She had been Sorted into Slytherin like a proper Black, trained up knowing all the customs and traditions and expectations and, until the moment that she and Sirius started fighting back about their arranged marriage, she had followed each and every rule. Then she had apparently met a Hufflepuff Muggle-born named Edward Tonks and all the pureblood education she spent seventeen years learning went right out the window along with her maiden name and inheritance. So if Andromeda, who had up until the last moment been the perfect pureblood daughter, had been cast aside so easily, what did that mean for Sirius, who had been fighting against his birthright practically from birth?

"You'll always be my brother," Regulus whispered the promise.

"Not unless he shapes up!" their mother said as she walked out of the room, glaring her grey eyes down at her eldest child with a hate that Regulus only saw at Hogwarts when Slytherin faced Gryffindor in Quidditch. Sirius turned and glared back up at their mother and then without another word, turned, punched the family tree and walked out of the room.

Their father exited the room behind Walburga, a glass of firewhisky in his hand as though someone had put it there with a Permanent Sticking Charm, looking annoyed and weary. Orion's eyes fell briefly on his wife before he sighed irritably and followed his eldest son out of the room.

"You, my sweet boy," Walburga said as she turned to face her youngest with a sudden smile on her face that actually looked painful and caused Regulus to wince in sympathy. "One day you will be the Head of this glorious House and it will be your job to keep filth away from our family, do you understand me? Toujours Pur, Regulus," she said to him, reaching forward and grabbing his jaw in her hand.

"But . . ." Regulus began, "I'm not the heir," he said. "Sirius will be the Head of —"

"_You_," Walburga hissed, her eyes narrowing, "will be the Head of our Ancient and Noble House and it will be your job to keep filth from the family, do you understand me?" she asked again, her fingernails digging into his jawline; he could feel the bruises beginning to form beneath the surface of his skin.

Regulus swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Not just Mudbloods and Muggles," she insisted. "Blood-traitors are just as bad, do you understand?" she asked. "Bring _any _of their lot into the House of Black and it will defile everything we have worked so hard for . . . centuries of purity, all gone!" her voice raised and Regulus forced himself not to flinch. "Toujours Pur, Regulus," she snapped, shaking him by the grip on his face, her nails digging further into his skin as she silently indicated he was to repeat her words.

"Toujours Pur, Mother," Regulus said quietly.

"There's my good boy." She grinned. "Go and get ready for the party now dear," she said and patted him affectionately on the shoulder as though she had not just nearly assaulted him as she would Sirius. "Your Uncle Cygnus isn't going to let one nasty little blood-traitor ruin Narcissa's big day. Of course it should be _your _big day as well, but apparently the little trollop couldn't wait a few more years for you to come of age," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically, a bitter scowl on her face.

"It's alright, Mother," Regulus said irritably, already tired of defending his decision on the matter. "I didn't want to marry Cissa anyway. Besides, she's in love with Lucius and I just want her to be happy."

Walburga beamed at him. "See? And _that's _why you would have made a wonderful husband for her. Still, I imagine breaking the contract wasn't _your _idea?"

Regulus shook his head. "No, ma'am."

"I hope you got something good for your sacrifice," she huffed.

Regulus held back from cringing.

When he had stepped foot inside the Slytherin Dungeons for the first time and Professor Slughorn gave an "inspirational" welcome speech, he had been reunited with his future bride and then introduced to her boyfriend, a fifth year Prefect named Lucius Malfoy who shook Regulus's hand, said that they would sit down and talk things out very soon, and then officially introduced him to Severus Snape, the black-haired boy he had sat down beside in the Great Hall, who was apparently now in charge of showing Regulus how things worked in the House of Salazar.

He didn't hear another word directly from Lucius until Narcissa's fifteenth birthday when she had shown up in the Slytherin Common Room with an emerald necklace hung around her slender neck. All the girls squealed loudly and the boys patted Lucius on the back, which Regulus thought strange considering, by pureblood customs, jewelry of _that _magnitude meant something quite serious.

Everything made sense when Lucius had taken him aside and showed him an old spell that he and Narcissa had found allowing a marriage contract to be broken by both willing parties without the approval of their parents, which Regulus knew he would certainly _not _get from his mother who had been fawning over Narcissa and insisting that her niece call her "Mum" for years now.

However, Cygnus wanted the world to know that Bellatrix and Narcissa were nothing like Andromeda, and so Bellatrix had been immediately married off to the eldest of the Lestrange family and, despite the arrangement with Regulus, Narcissa had been encouraged to entangle herself further into the wealthy and Noble House of Malfoy which paralleled the House of Black in money and purity. It hadn't been much of a sacrifice on Cissa's part; it was clear to anyone at Hogwarts that she worshiped the very ground that Lucius walked on, which either meant that she genuinely did love him or she was an exceptionally good actress; Regulus believed it was a bit of both.

The spell appeared like a simple blood sacrifice, not something most children of the House of Black were unaccustomed to participating in, but there were a few bits of the untranslated portion that left him feeling uneasy. Still, Lucius was insistent and imposing and Narcissa looked utterly besotted with him. Regulus hadn't even thought about girls in any context other than classmates, unlike Sirius, who he had caught multiple times in the corridors sniffing after witches like a dog after a bone.

What did it matter to _him _to break the marriage contract?

"What do I get out of this?" Regulus asked, looking up at Lucius who towered over him, but Regulus stood firm, showing no signs of fear. He was a Slytherin and would be damned if his bride — desired or not — would be stolen away from him without proper compensation. He would be forced to endure whatever wrath from his parents would come down upon him over breaking the contract and, aside from the legalities of the spell that ensured promises of furthering the lineage of both parties, Regulus saw clearly that he was receiving the poor end of the deal.

"What would you like?" Lucius asked with a grin, apparently pleased that the young Slytherin hadn't just rolled over and took the theft of his prize, a prize that Lucius clearly coveted.

Regulus thought for a moment about the things that were important to him. He had all the money in the world and didn't need anything from Malfoy in that respect. Had it been anyone other than Lucius asking for Narcissa's hand, Regulus would have insisted that she be treated properly and adored as she deserved, but the way the blond wizard caressed her neck — even in front of Regulus — made it clear that Narcissa would be treasured as a Malfoy bride. That left only one thing . . .

"The House of Salazar is to leave my brother alone," he demanded. "He's already been sent to the Hospital Wing twice this year because of random hexing in the halls and on the Pitch."

Lucius scoffed. "He's a Gryffindor."

"He's my brother and the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black," Regulus said firmly, sounding much older than his eleven years. "An attack on him is a disrespect to my entire family, our name, and our blood. I give a hair over what colours he wears here at Hogwarts."

"Snape won't like it," Lucius reminded him. "And I can only offer protection so long as I'm here," he insisted. "Once I graduate, it ends."

Regulus nodded. "Understood."

"You realise you're basically giving Sirius Black a free pass to attack anyone in your own House without retribution, correct?" Lucius asked him clearly. "When my protection ends, they will remember everything he did and the wrath will come down on him ten-fold."

Regulus hesitated as he pondered the ability to rein in his brother's antics. The pranks were one thing, but Sirius held a genuine dislike for all Slytherins, save for Regulus. The boy still nodded. "Let's end this marriage contract, cousin," he said, smiling up at Narcissa.

* * *

**A/N**: So, as you can see this story will flip back and forth between Regulus's life and Hermione's life jumping between their POVs (as well as some Draco and Severus and maybe Sirius in the future chapters). I wanted to post this chapter close after the first to let you all get a sense for how the story is going to play out. I fell in love with the character of Regulus while writing Debt of Time, and though they are written differently between the stories, I really wanted to explore the character, discover my own versions of his childhood and reasons for joining the Death Eaters, and the lead up to his eventual death. I hope you all enjoy it.

Also, if you love the Pureblood!Hermione trope, make sure to read **Colubrina**'s new story, _The Muddy Princess_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene, some which may or may not include consenting minors (no adult/minor pairings).

**A/N**: I caught up on my writing and my Beta (and keeper) has permitted me to post Chapter 3 today, Lol! I'm so glad that the majority of the feedback for this story has been positive! I know there are some questions and I'll try to answer the ones that won't spoil future plot points:

**Sparkling Ashes** \- Yes, Regulus Black is Hermione's biological father. **SilverWolf1978**, **LJ Summers**, **ChizomenoHime**, **1994omi**, **Lalina92**, **Nicole** **O**, **LadyMandy**, **Djomar**, **lilramenlover**, **Chester99**, **Katsumi**-**phoenix**, **maranjade** \- Hermione's mother will be revealed in the next chapter. Yes, Hermione is a pureblood. **KaseyKay10 -** there won't be much Ron bashing, but he will be in character as much as possible, so there will be some issues to address. He's currently not at Grimmauld Place because everyone knows he lacks the ability to filter his thoughts and Hermione's a bit fragile right now. **Guest**, **meldz**, **deator11** \- Yes, this does mean Draco and Hermione are technically second cousins. Yes, it's still a Dramione story but I won't be focusing on the familial relationship. Sirius has said before that ANYONE who claims to be a true pureblood, comes from people that married distant (and not so distant) cousins. Even Harry and Ginny are third cousins and Arthur and Molly are also related through the Black family. I understand that this will squick some readers out, so if you want to opt out now, I totally understand and won't hold your squicks against you. I, personally, can't handle reading Snape/Harry pairings, but I wouldn't judge the writers or readers that love them. To each their own.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Three

_Memoria_

* * *

**April 1998**

The side effects of being under the Cruciatus Curse lasted much longer than many would have thought. A combination of Bellatrix's expertise in the specific curse paired with the length of time Hermione had been under it, made it near impossible for the little witch to be left alone at night. The first time she'd had a seizure in her sleep, Kreacher had woken the entire house, screaming for someone to help his special Young Miss. Elf magic could heal, certainly, and Kreacher had done his best with the grotesque carving on her arm, but some things were best left to potions and time, both of which were necessary for Hermione's recovery.

Snape did what he could, moving back and forth between Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place, grateful that the students had yet to return to the school from Easter holidays, giving him a mild reprieve from his duties as Headmaster. Voldemort was on a hunt for something, the Elder wand if Harry was to be believed, and the Death Eaters were left to their own devices while their master was on his own mission. Unfortunately, that meant a lot of work for the Order. When the cat's away . . .

When he was at Grimmauld Place, Snape brewed in a spare room on the fourth floor, keeping Hermione alive and out of pain with a variety of potions that she drank down with no complaint, once mentioning that she'd handled a worse recovery at the end of fifth year when Dolohov's curse had her ingesting upwards of ten potions a day for weeks until she was finally healed. Sirius and Snape both requested she never mention that time again, and she couldn't understand why.

Sirius had scarcely made it out of the Department of Mysteries alive, but he'd been in worse situations and battles, and what Snape's issue was regarding the Department of Mysteries was well . . . a mystery. She eavesdropped later on when Mrs. Weasley stopped in to bring food for everyone and the redhead asked after Hermione's health.

"She'll be all right, won't she?" the witch asked. "It's not as bad as last time?"

"Please don't mention that," Sirius pleaded. "Poppy told us all Hermione could have died then."

"She could have died a few days ago as well," Mrs. Weasley said softly. "They shouldn't have run off. The Order should have stepped in right from the beginning. Damn Albus," the woman cursed their fallen Headmaster. "If only he had stuck around to tell us what needed to be done."

"My apologies for disturbing your predetermined end-of-war schedule," Snape hissed at her. "Perhaps I could have delayed killing him," the bitter words rolled over the matron, "but regardless of timing, I can guarantee you that Albus Dumbledore would not have shared with you anything he did not want to. He told _children _his plans to end the war and, from what I've gathered, he didn't tell them much. It was how the man worked. Little pieces of information at a time to keep you coming back for more. He handfed _all _of his pets."

"We weren't his pets," Sirius argued quietly, his tone implied that he was trying to remain in control of his anger.

"Of course we were!" Snape snarled. "You the dog, I the snake," he said and rolled his eyes. "And if you haven't figured it out yet, he had three favourite little lambs, all ready for slaughter."

Harry slept beside her each night to make sure she was safe. Hermione figured a lot of it was more for him than for her. They'd taken to sharing a bed when Ron abandoned them on the hunt. For weeks they had tried to stay on a schedule. One would rest while the other took watch, but after so long they were beyond exhausted and one morning she woke to find Harry's arm draped over her protectively, snoring next to her. She remembered smiling — for the first time in weeks — and feeling safe. Feeling loved and a part of something whole. _Family_. Harry was family. It was something that, at the time, felt almost foreign to her. She had lost her parents to Obliviation, and so she clung to Harry desperately to fill that familial void in her life.

A void that was starting to become familiar again.

When she wasn't resting from her injuries or begging for information from the Order or, at the very least, something to do, she had taken to staring at the Black Family tapestry on the wall. Her fingers gently raked over the embroidered name of Regulus Arcturus Black, willing information to be parted from the wall into her mind. Who was he? What was he like? Why did he have to die? Who was her mother? Why did they give her away, and to Muggles of all people? The Blacks, Regulus included, had been blood purists. Sirius and Andromeda had been the only exceptions. Right?

Her recovery took a rough step in the wrong direction one night when Harry had been summoned back to Shell Cottage to make plans with the Order. She woke in the middle of the night feeling like she was being suffocated only to find Sirius holding onto her tightly as her body thrashed in his arms. When she finally stopped seizing, Hermione tried to hold back her emotions, but they flooded her senses and she sobbed like a child against his chest while he stroked her long black curls, kissing her forehead and muttering apologies as though he had been the one to curse her.

Sirius whispered promises of protection. Told her that he would never let her go and that she was a part of him and a part of his family and he would do his best to take care of her from that point forward, no matter what it cost him.

Hermione's tears dried up as she breathed in Sirius's comforting scent, the feeling of safety enveloping her in a way she hadn't felt in years, not since she was a little girl and her dad — Richard Granger — hugged her tightly after picking her up at Kings Cross Station after her fourth year at Hogwarts when Cedric had died and Voldemort returned. She had been terrified deep down, covering up her fears with Gryffindor bravery and bravado, but the moment her dad wrapped his arms around her, she was small and fragile and felt like she could really, truly let go and allow herself to be afraid and have those fears chased away like monsters in the closet or the bogeyman beneath the bed.

Sirius made her feel like that again. Small and yet safe.

She reached a small hand up and touched his shoulder length black hair. Soft in texture like her own and as black as midnight with a gentle curl to it. She wondered if Regulus's hair had been the same. Wondered if he smelled like leather and sandalwood like Sirius did and, if so, was it something that would have calmed her as a child. Would he have hugged her and held her and calmed her fears, eased her nightmares, and told her that he would chase away the monsters? Hermione wanted to think that he would have.

Regulus Black had been a Death Eater, that much was certain. But he had also defied the Dark Lord; tried to bring him down by stealing and attempting to destroy a Horcrux. But he had failed, and his act of defiance had cost him his life.

Had cost Hermione her father.

Sirius's hugs were both a kind comfort and a painful reminder to the witch.

When the seizures stopped and she could sleep alone through the night, Hermione tried to get downstairs as quickly as she could every morning before Kreacher appeared with a tray of a dozen different foods to serve her in bed. She had tried pleading with the elf to let her downstairs, but he insisted that his special Young Miss needed her strength, and then went blathering on about how he was denied the privilege of caring for the special Young Miss, and how her honorable father Regulus . . . "liked to eat porridge with blueberries, and he liked bacon and tomatoes and beans, but he did not like eggs and does special Young Miss like eggs?"

"Eggs are fine, Kreacher, thank you, you really don't have to go to all the trouble of —"

"Master Regulus, special Young Miss's honourable father, liked pumpkin juice in the morning but tea in the afternoon and does special Young Miss like pumpkin juice in the morning but tea in the afternoon?" he asked her.

His blue eyes stared up at her the same way that third years gaped at their first unicorn in Care of Magical Creatures. It made her incredibly sad and uneasy at the same time as though she wanted to dismiss him away, but was terrified of offending him, or worse, causing him to think he had done something wrong and end up hurting himself in response.

Hermione offered a small smile. "Doesn't everyone drink pumpkin juice in the morning?" she asked conversationally.

Kreacher scowled. "Master . . . filthy blood-traitor brat that he is," the previously chipper elf hissed, "drinks coffee." He spoke in a tone that was hateful and defiant and said the words as though coffee was the very worst thing in the world simply because Sirius drank it.

Hermione frowned. "Kreacher . . ." she said hesitantly and then swallowed hard, "I . . . I would like it very much if you stopped speaking ill of Sirius."

He stared at her in severe confusion.

"Please," she begged him, and frowned when he recoiled from the word as though she had struck him. Hermione sighed in frustration. Never before had she wanted a house-elf, least of all this specific one, but she couldn't help but think that someone in the wizarding world should have written an owners manual on how to deal with them. "Kreacher," she cleared her throat. "I . . . I _order _you to treat Sirius with respect," she said. "No more calling him names. No more calling _anyone _names," she corrected.

Kreacher stared at her, his mouth open and his fingers twisting in the long white hair that stuck out of his ears. Hermione cringed at the sight and then added, "And please wash your hands before you go back to the kitchen," she said nervously.

"Of course special Young Miss, Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black," he said and bowed low to her.

Hermione pouted guiltily. "B-but . . ." she stammered, "don't let anyone treat you badly. And only do things if you really want to. And if Sirius harms you in any way . . . I . . . I give you permission to . . ." she tried to think of something not so terrible that it would further provoke the strange animosity between Master and house-elf. "I give you permission to give him tea instead of coffee!"

Kreacher gaped at her with amusement as though she had just given him permission to poison Sirius. A part of her immediately began to worry that perhaps her new-found uncle was allergic to tea leaves.

By the time Kreacher had filled her plate three times over, Hermione ordered him to leave her alone, something that still made her guilty, but apparently got easier with time. She slowly made her way down the stairs and into the library, desperate for something to do other than to stare out her bedroom window and wonder how the war was going on as no one was willing to offer her any information lest they stress her out.

"You're supposed to be resting, Miss Granger," Snape drawled as she stood in the doorway of the library, not even raising his black eyes to greet her as he devoted his attention to a book on a table in front of him; quill in hand, he made notes in the margins.

Hermione scrunched up her face at the sight as she reminded herself that books with his notes in the margins should probably be looked at with caution considering the trouble one of them had landed Harry in the year before. "_Black_," she said quietly as she stepped into the room and sat down across from him.

Snape looked up at her, raising a brow. "Beg your pardon?"

"Miss _Black_," she corrected, a bite to her tone. "Isn't that who I am? Or is the tapestry wrong? Am I just some bastard child that was dropped on the doorstep of a Muggle family; the castaway of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black? Did my father even give a —"

Snape closed the book loudly, slamming the cover shut and cutting her off of her angry rant. She looked up at him with grey eyes, nervously twirling a lock of black hair between two fingers. She was angry that she was being kept in the dark about the war, which only served to remind her that she had been apparently kept in the dark as to her own origins, but she certainly hadn't meant to snap at the Potions Master like that.

Before she had a chance to officially apologise, he cleared his throat and then spoke in a mildly threatening tone, "Be careful to choose your next words Miss . . . _Black_."

Hermione nodded her apology instead before asking, "So that is my name then?"

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are not some . . . bastard, Miss Black," he assured her. "Your _biological _parents were indeed wed. I should know, I was present for the occasion," he added, rolling his eyes.

"You were at their wedding?" she asked, her interest peaked.

Snape nodded and then sneered. "Forcibly."

She hesitated before finally summoning the courage to ask him, "Who was my mother? The tapestry doesn't say."

"I imagine your father charmed it as such," Snape answered, opening his book once again and dunking the tip of his quill in a nearby ink pot, "the same way he charmed it to keep _your _name off of it until Potter decided to let you bleed all over magically enchanted floors. As for the identity of your mother, that is not for me to say," he drawled.

Hermione frowned bitterly. The man clearly knew the answer to her question but was purposely keeping the information to himself. Did that mean her mother was a terrible person? Someone she would be horrified to discover had given birth to her? She briefly panicked at the thought that her mother might have been Bellatrix Lestrange. The House of Black was known for inbreeding and it wasn't a secret that they'd married between cousins and… _oh, Gods!_ Hermione paled. She descended from people who married their first cousins!

"She was not a Black," Snape said irritably.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "How did you —?"

"Gryffindors are unbearably transparent with their thoughts. It almost makes the years I spent learning Legilimency a waste of time," he said.

"Why did he keep me a secret?" Hermione asked the Potions Master. "Why was I not on the tapestry until I 'bled all over magically enchanted floors', as you put it?"

"That is not for me to say."

"Then who _can _say it?!" she snapped. "I have questions, who can answer them for me?"

Snape looked up at her and raised a brow. "After six years of putting up with you knowing all of the answers to my questions," he said in a tone of annoyance, "I find this new side of your personality much more intolerable. However, at least you've ceased with the incessant hand raising."

"Can you tell me anything?" she begged him.

He snarled. "It is not —"

"For you to say," Hermione frowned, "yes, I know."

Several minutes passed in silence between them before Snape finished writing something at the end of a page and closed the book, setting his quill down to the side before capping the inkwell. "Your father would have the answers you seek," he told her.

"Yes, well, he's dead, isn't he?" Hermione said in a quiet anger.

Snape very briefly narrowed his eyes at her statement. "Obviously," he said, a note of sadness in his tone.

She looked up, catching his slight change in demeanor. "You knew him?" she asked and he nodded. "What . . . what was he like?"

"More tolerable than his brother . . ." Snape said instantly and then added, "and daughter."

Hermione smirked at him. "Does the Order need any help with research?" she asked, peering over at the cover of the book he had been writing in, noting that it was simply an old potions book. "Sirius and Harry won't let me assist with anything else because of the . . . the seizures," she frowned. "I can't brew anything because I'm likely to drop an ingredient and blow up the house, and I can't even fight because my wand was . . ." She sighed as she reached into her pocket to pull out the walnut wand from her robes that recently belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry had apparently allowed Tonks to use it during the infiltration of Gringotts, but Hermione woke up one morning and it had been returned to her as though it belonged to her.

Hermione hated it.

"Is that her wand?" Snape asked the witch. "Strange thing to hold onto. A keepsake from the time you were held prisoner."

"_I _wasn't held prisoner," she corrected him. "Harry and Ron were. I was tortured."

"Prisoner just the same. A lack of bars does not indicate freedom, quite the opposite," he insisted as though he knew from personal experience what it was like to be kept. Perhaps not a prison, but a cage or a very tight leash.

Hermione frowned as she looked at the wand in her hand. "I kept it because I need a wand and this one was available. Now . . . is there anything I can research?"

"I left a stack of books in your room," Snape said, gesturing to the door.

"Not _my _room," she swallowed. "I don't live here. Besides, I've . . . relocated."

It had been Kreacher's idea of course, but one that Hermione didn't argue with. One evening after taking a bath, she wrapped herself in a soft towel and left the bathroom to return to the guest bedroom where she had been staying only to find all of her things missing. When she finally tracked them down, they were neatly folded and stacked on a chair beyond a wooden door that read, _Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black._

She entered regardless and set herself up in her father's old bedroom, tearing down any and every mention of Voldemort he had plastered on the walls. She left up the photographs and the rest of the decor in the room. Green and silver draped the bed, walls, and the windows and she was half tempted to turn them all red and gold as a strange way of defying her father, something she had clearly not been able to do growing up. Her Muggle parents had always been so agreeable and anytime she was home from Hogwarts it was filled with vacations and catching up. She wondered what Regulus Black would have thought about his only child being sorted outside of Slytherin.

She left everything green and silver though, much to Harry's distaste. When asked why she refused to change it, Hermione shrugged and, with no further explanation, said, "I'm comfortable here."

"I was told." Snape nodded. "Still, if you can't manage to carry the books to your new . . . _location_, I imagine the elf would be pleased to assist you."

Hermione grimaced. "I don't like him waiting on me."

"He seems to enjoy it quite a bit. You would deny the little beast an ounce of happiness?" he accused her, clearly amused when she gasped in reply. "Leave him in the caring hands of the mutt who he loathes to serve and once tried to help kill?"

Hermione shook her head, knowing that he was trying to provoke her into an argument, quite possibly for his own entertainment. "How can Kreacher be so devoted to . . . to Regulus but not to Sirius?" she asked, purposely not referring to the dead former Death Eater as her father, something she was struggling to do in her own mind as she fought the urge to separate herself entirely from the man, but yearned to connect with him as well. "Were they so different?" she asked. "He . . . my father," she looked down as she spoke the word quietly, "couldn't have been more than eighteen-years-old when he died. I know he was a Death Eater, but . . . but he was good in the end. Like you."

Snape scowled at her. "Do not presume to know a thing about me, Miss Black."

"He was only eighteen —"

"Draco Malfoy is an eighteen-year-old Death Eater, tell me, what do you think of _him_?" he snapped at her.

Hermione recoiled from the words and looked away from the Potions Master, anxiously twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers before finally whispering, "I . . . I don't want to talk about Draco Malfoy."

He watched her mannerisms which seemed to annoy him further. "Interestingly enough, I do not care to talk about Regulus Black. If you want to know more about your father, go and read his diaries," he said, waving her off.

She looked up with sudden interest. "There are diaries? His personal ones?"

"Obviously or I would not have mentioned them." He stared at the girl incredulously as he made to stand, gathering his belongings into his arms.

"Why did you have my father's diaries?" she asked curiously.

"They were given to me."

"Why would he —" she began but was cut off when Snape hissed in pain and grabbed at his forearm.

"I have to go."

"The Dark Mark," she whispered, "He's . . . he's calling for you?"

Snape nodded. "Yes, and for once in my life I'm quite pleased to be entering _his _company as it relieves me of _yours_." He snarled at her, but Hermione could see the strange worry in his black eyes.

She stood to say goodbye. "Umm . . . be . . . be safe, sir," she said softly.

She contemplated going downstairs to find someone else to pester for a job to do or information on what was happening outside of Grimmauld Place, but when she heard laughter coming from the drawing room, she frowned. She could hear the sounds of Remus and Sirius, the latter, her uncle, going on and on about some prank or other that Harry's father pulled back in Hogwarts. Sounds of delight echoed up the hallways and stairwells and Hermione frowned wishing that Sirius was sitting with her instead, telling her memories of Regulus.

_Perhaps_, she wondered, _Sirius doesn't have any good ones_.

She returned to her room — Regulus's room — with his diaries in her arms and sat down on the green and silver bed, ignoring the large Black Family crest that had been painted over it. She reached for the leather bound book, opening the cover by using the tip of her finger with delicate ease, staring at the script on the inside noting the owner and year.

_September 1st, 1972_

_I sat with Sirius and his friends on the train even though Mother said I shouldn't. He's a bad influence, she continues to say and, after seeing the amount of Dungbombs my brother and his comrades have collected, I can't help but wonder if she was right. Whatever personality traits our parents found distasteful in Sirius before he left for Hogwarts, have been made worse by his friends. _

_Potter encourages him through competition, one trying to outdo the other at every turn. Pettigrew applauds his every move to the point where I couldn't _not_ roll my eyes at him. As much as I love my brother and have always looked up to him, even _I_ couldn't contort myself into such a position to kiss his arse so well as Pettigrew does. Lupin seems to be the only logical mind of the bunch, and yet, still a Gryffindor which, according to Mother, might as well label one a blood-traitor from the start. He's a half-blood though, so it wouldn't really matter. I know because I asked him and then received glares from each of Sirius's friends as though I had cursed them all._

_Sirius says that blood status doesn't matter at Hogwarts._

_I can't help but feel that, regardless of what my personal opinions on the purity of ancestry are, it does, in fact, matter. Especially now that I've been sorted into Slytherin. I couldn't do it. The Sorting Hat appeared like it wanted to give me the choice but I . . . I'm not like Sirius. Not brave like Sirius. Or foolish like Sirius. He can take the beatings and the bruises, the broken bones and the whipping . . . but I don't have it in me to willingly martyr myself._

_Not for principles I don't fully understand. _

_I met a girl on the train when I was sent to find the trolley. She fought me for the last licorice wand and called me a prat when I bought it right out from under her nose. She traded me three chocolate frogs for the item and laughed when I tried to kiss her hand after she introduced herself. _

_She was sorted into Gryffindor. _

_Sirius is wrong. _

_It all matters_.

When Hermione woke the following morning, Regulus's diary held open on her lap, she yawned and closed the book, eager to set it aside before Kreacher showed up and started shoveling food at her. The witch turned to place the diary on the table beside the bed and gasped at the sight of her vinewood wand sitting there, pinning down a note that read:

_Miss Black,_

_I believe this belongs to you._

_S.S._

* * *

**A/N**: Hermione's mother is revealed in the next chapter. Let's start a poll! Throw out your suggestions now!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: The benevolent Beta, **Fluffpanda**, is allowing me to post an extra chapter this week! Mostly to reward me for catching up with my writing, and also to promote another new story I'm writing (during brief moments of writer's block with this one) called _Tying the Nott_, a Theo/Hermione story. Also, speaking of new stories, **Colubrina** has an awesome post-war AU called _The Ones Who Ran_. Sooo good!

Q&amp;As - I loved all the speculations on Hermione's biological mother who will be revealed in this chapter. Yes, she was the little girl on the train with Regulus. But her name is revealed here. Some of you got it right, many of you were WAY off, but still creative enough that it made me go, "Oh, that would have been interesting!" To answer a common question, Hermione is a pureblood. Meaning that BOTH of her biological parents are also purebloods. Sorry to the Lily/Regulus shippers. **Duner89**, at this point in the story (Hermione's chapter at least which are currently in April of 1998) the Malfoy's and Bellatrix don't know that she is a Black. The only people that do are Sirius, Snape, Harry, Ron, and several Order members. **Djomar**, while the final battle will be slightly different from Canon versions, that is where we will next see Draco. **SuneiD**, Snape, both younger and older versions, will be a fairly constant presence. **LR Earl**, the Dramione issues will come to a head fairly quickly. I didn't want to dance around things considering we only get to see Hermione every other chapter. How the pairing fairs . . . that's a different question LOL.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Four

_Amicitia_

* * *

**September 1974**

"You have to take my second year," Regulus insisted as he sat down next to Severus in the Great Hall, watching as his best friend slowly raised his eyes from his copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_, quill stuck between two ink-stained fingers as he made notes in the margins of the text.

Two years spent with Severus Snape as his Slytherin "mentor" and Regulus still couldn't quite understand how the older boy could read, write, and eat all at the same time. Then again, with a book in one hand and a quill in the other, setting down either at anytime for a brief forkful of food left little time to converse, which aided with Severus's favourite pastime: avoiding conversations.

Severus raised a slender black brow and stared at his friend. "If you get rid of your second year, Lucius will just assign you another," he told him, the irritation in his tone indicated he was silently calling Regulus an idiot. "It's the older years jobs to look after the youngers; teach them the ways. One isn't any better than another, and they're _all _irritating, trust me," he drawled.

Regulus smirked. "Wonderful insult, Severus," he said and then quietly applauded. "I'm irritating, well done," he sarcastically quipped.

Their first year as "assigned" best friends had been tense until Regulus made Severus aware that he cared little for Severus's secret status as a half-blood, and didn't share the same views on the boy's friendship with a certain redhead that the rest of Slytherin House did. Regulus's great attention span in classes made him top of his year, which allowed him the chance to study with Severus without being labeled completely useless by the older boy.

They shared a passion for education and learning, books and Quidditch though neither had made the House team. However, it was their distaste for other students that brought them together for the most part, and a strange reluctance to end their friendship regardless of whatever offensive subject came into the conversations. With Sirius being Regulus's brother, their conversations often got heated; still, they remained friends.

"What's wrong with your second year, and why are you _now _trying to get rid of him?" Severus asked, putting his book down in frustration, seeing that Regulus wasn't going to just give up so easily. "He's been your responsibility for a year, hasn't he?"

"He creeps me out and I'm finally at my breaking point," Regulus replied. "He's twitchy as hell when he's quiet and when he's not he never shuts up. I woke up this morning and he was standing by my bed, waiting for me to wake up. When I opened my eyes he opened his mouth and didn't stop talking until I hexed him silent and blamed it on a passing Hufflepuff."

When Lucius Malfoy had stood in front of the group of newly sorted Slytherins a year ago and introduced Regulus to Bartemius Crouch Jr., he thought he could try to emulate Severus with his new little shadow, but it became quickly obvious that the boy had no respect for the authority that came naturally with Regulus's one year difference in age. Then again, Regulus rarely offered the same level of respect to Severus, but at least he knew when to shut his mouth.

"A chatty second year, how abhorring." Severus rolled his eyes. "I should say your selling technique needs polishing. Why on earth would I take him _now_?"

Regulus sighed in irritation. "Take him off my hands and I'll help you with your Transfiguration homework."

Severus bristled and sneered at his friend. "I hardly need help from a _third year_, thank you."

Regulus smirked at the defiance of the older boy. "You _do _and you know it. Don't act like you're better than me because you're older," he said hypocritically. "I happen to know that you're tutoring two sixth years in Potions. What are Mulciber and Avery giving you in exchange for that?"

Severus's black eyes darkened — Regulus hadn't thought that possible — and he turned and glared at his friend. "That's none of your concern," he glowered as he replied. After a moment to collect himself and return his face to an emotionless mask, Severus spoke again, "Take the hex-free sign off of your brother and I'll get rid of your second year twitching shadow."

Regulus frowned. "You know I won't."

Severus narrowed his eyes across the Great Hall where Sirius and Potter were being reprimanded by Professor McGonagall for dancing on the Gryffindor table. "You know what he's like and yet you do nothing but protect him."

The young Black ran a hand through his long hair, noting that it was almost as long as Sirius's, but not quite as shaggy. He briefly wondered if his brother owned a brush or comb, or simply let his hair dry that way to appear rugged and rough. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls appeared to like that. "Normal, non-fatal or permanently scarring retribution for anything he does _is _allowed," Regulus said, his words well rehearsed and clearly spoken before. "You know if I didn't have Lucius's protection in place, Sirius would be dead."

It had been less than two weeks after Regulus ended his betrothal to Narcissa in exchange for Sirius's protection that he was sat down by a group of fifth years who had apparently been pranked by Sirius the month prior when the Gryffindors — "Marauders", they called themselves — had put Sticking Charms on the Slytherin's shoes, making them stuck to the floor of the Great Hall and late to class. Evidently, their idea of proper retribution for a harmless joke was to steal from Slughorn's storage, brew a Draught of Living Death and slip it in Sirius's pumpkin juice.

Lucius had forbade the action as per his arrangement with Regulus, and the other Slytherins had spent an hour trying to talk the young Black into removing the ban on his brother. He had then spent the rest of his first and _all _of his second year at Hogwarts running interference with his Housemates that were all too eager to try and permanently take out Sirius. It was shocking, to see and hear what wizards close to his own age were willing to do but, then again, the _Daily Prophet_ had been reporting on things out in the real world that looked just as bad if not worse. Muggings, theft, torture, and murders. He tried to avoid reading the paper. His mother would send him clippings that she found important anyway, and he had no desire to know the rest.

Severus glared across the hall as Sirius tried to flirt his way out of detention with McGonagall, the old witch looked sternly at him, her arms crossed over her chest, but even from the Slytherin table they could see her resolve slightly crack. It was far too difficult not to fall prey to the charms of Sirius Black. "Maybe someone should just —"

"Watch it," the third year hissed at his friend, his normally relaxed tone of voice tensing. "You might be my best mate Severus, but Sirius is my brother."

"He's a _Gryffindor_."

"So is Evans," Regulus pointed out, gesturing to the redheaded witch who was arguing with Potter while Sirius sweet talked the Deputy Headmistress. "And you put a similar protection in place for her. Don't think I don't know about it, though, I'm not entirely certain what you had to give up in exchange."

Severus was seething. "That's different," he insisted. "For one, she's not a _menace _to the rest of the school, and secondly, you know very well that my protection for her has absolutely _nothing _to do with her being a Gryffindor."

Regulus nodded in understanding. It was true. Though they whispered it in class and in the corridors, the word "Mudblood" was thrown around casually in the common room and Lily Evans — the smartest witch in her year — had apparently rankled the scales of a few serpents that wanted to bleed the girl dry if only to show how filthy her blood really was. Regulus avoided conversations like that, merely rolling his eyes at the statements. When asked if he'd like to join in should they finally get the girl alone, Regulus evaded the offer by talking about how difficult it was to get blood stains out of clothing. That, surprisingly, was a passable answer. It was unfortunate how close his militant blood purist parents were with the parents of other students in his House.

"The others are talking," Regulus spoke quietly, warning his friend. It was one thing to talk about and threaten a Mudblood from another House, Gryffindor at that, but it appeared the older students were beginning to take notice of Severus's affection for the girl, and that would not be tolerated.

Severus sneered. "Let them talk."

Regulus sighed at the sight of Severus's stubborn face. "When Lucius graduates next year, we're both screwed. They'll turn on Sirius and your little ginger witch the moment he steps onto the train, and they'll turn on _us _for even _thinking _about trying to keep them safe. We'll be forced to make a choice."

"And what will you choose?" Severus asked, still looking across the Hall, but instead of glaring eyes on Sirius and Potter, his black eyes were settled on the redhead in question. She, in turn, was gathering up her books into her arms, glaring daggers at the messy-haired wizard who was grinning up at her from his seat at the table between Sirius and Lupin.

"In the long run," Regulus thought out loud, "I think it might be best to cut ties."

"With House or blood?" Severus asked, turning his focus to his friend.

"In appearance? Blood," he replied. "If they think I'm loyal to one member of my family who's already on his way out of his inheritance, then it'll be so much worse for the pair of us. At least on this side I can try and control what happens to him."

"I hate him, you know."

"And for good reason, I get it." Regulus nodded. "But I don't turn my back on people I care about."

Severus chuckled, _actually _chuckled. "How Hufflepuff of you."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Says the bloke fingering a Muggle watch in his pocket that his girlfriend got him last Yule," he teased quietly.

Severus's eyes widened and then narrowed in the space of half a second. "She's not my girlfriend," he hissed.

"She got you a watch," Regulus said as if that made his entire point for him. "Granted, it's a hideous looking Muggle-made thing, it's still a watch. Did you even explain the implications of such a gift to the little Muggle-born, or did you just accept it like an idiot?" he asked, smirking when he could see the slightest touch of pink tinge Severus's cheeks.

"It doesn't mean anything," the fourth year Slytherin insisted.

"Not to _her_."

"And what did you get from your own little lioness?" Severus asked.

Regulus bristled but kept the smug expression on his face intact. He and Severus had known one another long enough — and well enough — to know which buttons they could push. Lily Evans had always been Severus's biggest button and lone vulnerability. Regulus, of course, had Sirius. Sirius and . . .

"Chocolates," he said with a shrug. "Because _she's _a pureblood and knows better," he added with a smug grin. "Have a chat with Evans before she starts handing out tie tacks and cufflinks to the wizards in her own House," he advised with genuine concern. Merlin knew what a nightmare it would be if Severus's Muggle-born sweetheart — whether she knew it or not — accidentally found herself betrothed to someone. "My brother would tease her mercilessly for it, but he would at least refuse them and, whether you like him or not, Lupin's honourable enough to educate her should she do something so naive and ignorant as give him said gift."

Severus's shoulders stiffened. "Something's wrong with him."

"You've said before," Regulus replied with casual irritation in regards to the subject. It didn't take a complete idiot to figure out what was wrong with Lupin, but Severus had always wanted proof. Proof of lycanthropy was a fool's errand. A _dead _fool if he was successful in any sense.

"As I was saying . . ." Regulus continued, "if she hands Potter, Pettigrew, or even Longbottom something, I wouldn't doubt that their parents would draw up a contract on the spot. Trust me when I tell you that it's a bloody sacrifice to get out of one of those."

"What did you give up to get out of your betrothal contract to Narcissa?" Severus asked curiously.

Regulus scowled. "None of your business."

He was about to be attacked by a barrage of follow-up questions, no doubt, when — of all unlikely creatures — a Muggle-born came to his rescue. The long-legged redhead bounded to their table with the reckless bravery of a blind lion. Each serpent turned to glare at her save for Severus and Regulus at the end who greeted her with curt nods, keeping any thought of a smile to a minimum.

"Hey, Sev!" Lily greeted him brightly, her very aura could glow even in the brightest of lights. It was blinding. "Are you ready to go to the library?"

Severus nodded as he gathered his books together. "Almost finished."

"Black," Lily greeted Regulus with a smile.

"Evans."

"You coming to study with us?" she asked, as she always did, a polite propensity she had begun years earlier when Severus had first begrudgingly introduced the pair. Regulus never agreed to accompany them.

"Meeting a friend," he said, declining her offer.

She grinned knowingly at him. "Is it someone I know?" she asked.

His grey eyes narrowed at the implication in her tone. "Is it any of your concern?"

She dropped her tone an octave and her bright green gaze turned slightly hard. "If it's my friend, then yes, yes it is," she insisted.

Mother lion to a pride of unruly little cubs. Regulus couldn't help but wonder how many would be sadly lost to injury and detention while their protective lioness naively played with snakes. He sneered at her. "Well, she was my friend _first_, so . . . so there."

Lily laughed, her eyes sparkling as she did so. "How is it that you're a snarky little smartarse and yet you're _still _more tolerable than your brother?" she asked him with a sweet grin that made him feel uncomfortable.

"I'm not a Gryffindor?" he suggested.

She smirked, rolling her eyes. "Very funny."

"I'm that too."

She shook her head at him "How are you only thirteen?"

"Well-bred wizards are taught to speak properly from a young age," he informed her only to get a glare in reply. He sighed dramatically as he realised what he had said and shook his head. "Not _that . . . _I didn't mean 'well-bred' as in . . . blood. If I truly thought that way, would I even be speaking to you?"

"What _are _your thoughts on blood purity?" she asked him, her voice much too loud.

Regulus felt Severus stiffen beside him. He wondered if they should learn Legilimency for moments like this. So that perhaps he could look into Severus's eyes and somehow silently tell his friend that he needed to get his pet Gryffindor under control before she got them all killed.

"My thoughts are that it's perfectly fine for me to exchange pleasantries with you in public," he answered, his tone short and slightly cold. "But don't expect to get into a political debate with me in the middle of the Great Hall at my own table," he muttered through clenched teeth, hoping that the point was easily received. "Better yet, do yourself and Severus a favour and don't ever bring it up at all."

Lily frowned at him and Regulus couldn't help but feel like she was disappointed in his answer, as though she expected better of him. Better from a Slytherin she barely knew. Gods, if his parents even knew he was speaking to her and not calling her any number of slurs, he would be beaten like Sirius often was.

She sighed."Your brother may be a lot of things, but he doesn't care that I'm a Muggle-born. I think he would actually be friends with me if I let him."

Regulus scoffed. "Yes. I'll remember that when the two of you exchange friendship bracelets and my mother uses it to choke him to death," he said sarcastically, but his eyes spoke the truth. He let her see it there in his gaze, hoping that maybe she would understand. "_That's_ what I think of blood purity, Evans. Sev, always a pleasure," he said as he stood, grabbing his book bag. "If you see Crouch, let him know I jumped into the lake and drowned and he's more than welcome to join me."

He stormed out of the Great Hall, grateful knowing that he had another hour before his next class began. The thought of silence was pleasurable after that massive fuck up of a conversation. In front of the entire Slytherin table no less. _What was wrong with the bloody girl?!_

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" a voice called from behind him and Regulus jumped, caught unawares.

He sighed as he spotted the blond witch behind him. He smiled at her, something few people were able to extract from the young Slytherin. The very sight of her was cause to grin though. Her hair was a giant mess of blond insanity. He was positively certain that not a single curl went in the same direction. It was longer than when he had first seen it on the Hogwarts Express that first train ride to school when they had fought over sweets and became instantaneous friends. He had watched her large mass of corkscrew locks as she had sat on the Sorting stool, wondering how on earth the Hat would even fit on her head. When it had shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" he felt a lump in his chest that sat there, bitter for a week before he had run into her during a double Potions class and sat down beside him, much to the shock of _both _Houses.

At the reminder of the thing that separated him from the witch, he scowled. "Your Housemate is what's wrong with me."

"Lily?" she asked curiously, noting that the upperclassman had been by the Slytherin table. "What did she say?"

"Nothing," he hissed as he walked, slowing his steps instinctively so she fell in beside him. "Just walked over to the table and started asking me, in front of my Housemates, what my thoughts on _blood purity_ are!"

The girl sighed dramatically. "I don't get Slytherins. Why can't you just . . . be friends instead of future political allies or adversaries?"

He scoffed. "Because that's not how it works."

"Do you even _enjoy _life?" she asked, reaching up and tugging on a lock of his hair. He turned and did the same to her, twisting the blond curl around his finger before yanking lightly on it. "Do you like being at Hogwarts? Do Slytherins have fun . . . at all?"

She smiled at him and he willed himself to ignore the dimple that was etched into her right cheek but not her left. He hated things that weren't symmetrical; they drew his attention and caught him off guard. That single tiny dimple had been plaguing him since first year.

"I have fun with _you_," he admitted.

"And if your Housemates thought I was more than just some study buddy?" she asked him.

He swallowed down the words that threatened to vomit up. "_Are_ you?" he asked curiously.

She snorted. "Don't be a prat."

He decided to push his luck and ask, "Would you ever consider giving me a watch as a gift for Yule?"

Her bright blue eyes widened and she turned and gaped at him, cheeks pink and lips parted. Regulus couldn't help but wonder if this was what Sirius went through every day. Girls were constantly staring at him, gaping in shock at something either flattering or offensive he had said. Regardless of the words they still ended up snogging him, something that made Regulus a little sad for witches in general and a bit disappointed — while at the same time impressed — with his brother.

"W-what?" the blond witch stuttered. "A . . . a watch? Why? Do you . . . d-do you _want _a watch? From me?" she asked, clearly knowing the meaning of such a gift. It was a relief, really.

"Hypothetical question," Regulus replied.

"Hypothetical answer . . . I'd . . . I don't know."

Regulus nodded as though her response meant nothing to him when inside he felt sick with anxiety and fear of rejection. "You should talk to Evans about how she behaves. She gave Severus a watch last Yule."

She laughed loudly. "Mother of Merlin! Did he _accept _it!?"

He smirked at her. "Yes. But he's smart enough to understand that she didn't mean anything by it other than a gift for a friend."

"Is he wearing it though?" she asked, her voice sounding far too much like the tone she used to gossip with and he wasn't one of her little Gryffindor girlfriends.

"No," he insisted. "Keeps it in his pockets."

"Thank Godric!" She giggled. "That would be a disaster."

He nodded, but then out of curiosity asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Because she thinks of him as a brother."

"That feeling, I assure you, is _not _reciprocated," he replied, shaking his head in grief for his poor love-stricken friend. Perhaps he ought to ask Narcissa to find a girl for Severus. Someone to take his mind off of Evans. Sirius went through witches like Cauldron Cakes, surely one wasn't any better than the other?

"What about me?" the witch at his side asked.

"What?" Regulus blinked at her, pulled from his thoughts, his grey eyes drawn to the lopsided smile she was giving him. The curve of her lip lifted on the side with the dimple. It was damn distracting. He swallowed and then smirked at her. "I don't know if Evans thinks of you like a brother. We're not that close," he said and laughed when she punched him in the arm. "Ow! Aren't you supposed to be a proper pureblood witch?" he teased. "Didn't your parents ever tell you it was improper to hit a wizard?"

She blushed. "Don't be a git, you know what I'm saying."

"I don't know. You're just . . ." he hesitated, "you're my friend."

She frowned. "Oh."

"And . . ." He cleared his throat. "I would like you to _not _be anyone else's friend."

She smirked looking up at him and suddenly he noticed that they had a difference in height. Had she always been that short? That small and fragile looking? But then again, the growing bruise on his arm said otherwise.

"That's a little selfish of you, don't you think?" she asked.

He shrugged, not offended by her words in the slightest. "I'm selfish with the things . . . and people . . . I care about."

"Aww," she cooed at him, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked, laughing when he caught a mouthful of her hair. "Regulus Black, do you _care _about me?"

"Shut up," he hissed.

"Aren't you supposed to be a proper pureblood wizard?" she asked, mocking him as she gasped and jumped back away from him, grasping at her heart dramatically. _Gods, Gryffindors were theatrical!_ "Didn't your parents ever tell you it was improper to tell a witch to shut up?"

Regulus smirked. "Couldn't tell you if they did. Mum screams so loud I went deaf when I was eight."

The witch laughed and linked her arm with his as they continued to walk. "Come my proper pureblood wizard," she said teasingly, "let us adjourn to the lake where you will study things of higher education and I will be a proper pureblood princess and simper at you while you regale me with tales of your vast intellect."

"Hey, goldielocks!" Sirius shouted as he rushed over to them, draping an arm over the witch's shoulders. "What are you doing hanging out with this little git?" He smirked at his little brother.

"Having a lovely conversation about which of the Black brothers is more attractive," she replied with a wink.

"Oh." Sirius stood back, adjusting his robes and running a hand through his black hair. "Well, clearly there's a _huge _difference," he said and waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly.

"Yes, huge as in your head." She laughed at him. "It's so big I think it disqualifies you and Regulus wins by default."

"Ouch." Sirius clutched at his heart. "You wound me, my lady."

The witch giggled and rolled her eyes at him, letting go of Regulus's arm as she made her way down to the lake, leaving the Black brothers behind. Sirius grinned and leaned next to Regulus, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Bugger off," Regulus snarled.

"She's nice." Sirius grinned, ignoring his brother. "I like her."

"Go away, dammit!" Regulus snapped.

Sirius only widened his smile at Regulus's temper. "Have you kissed her? Snogged in a broom closet? The one on the fourth floor is particularly large, then again, it's nice when they're small. Very little wiggle room."

"You're disgusting." Regulus shook his head. "How do you even _get _girls to kiss your stupid face?"

"I look like this," Sirius said with a smile and pointed to his face, which was partially obscured by the red and gold tie that he had wrapped around his head.

Regulus frowned. "_I_ look like that too, only less moronic."

"Yeah, but I'm not scowling all the time, am I?" Sirius smirked. "They _love _it when you smile, Reggie. C'mon, give us a grin," he said and pushed his fingers against Regulus's cheeks, trying to manipulate a smile out of the boy.

"Can you . . ." Regulus seethed as his brother continued to touch his face, "be an adult for _once _in your life?"

"No," Sirius answered instantly. "I'm fourteen. Happy to _not _be an adult as long as I can get away with it."

"Can you please be —"

"Serious?"

"Fuck off!" Regulus growled and pulled away from his brother. "Please just . . . go back to your merry little band of idiots," he said and gestured to the Marauders who were on the other side of the greenhouses, roughhousing with one another.

"They're not idiots," Sirius said, defending his friends.

Regulus stared at his brother incredulously. "Potter's laying on the ground at this very moment, holding his groin because he leapfrogged over Pettigrew and knocked his bollocks on the idiot's big fat head," he pointed out.

Sirius turned his head quickly to watch and, sure enough, James was groaning on the ground with his hands between his legs. Peter was gripping the top of his head, and Remus was laughing loudly, holding his hands against his side. "He jumps too soon." Sirius sigh disappointedly and shook his head. "You have to use the shoulders to give you the extra boost."

Regulus gaped at his brother. "How are you lot passing your classes? How are _any _of you not brain damaged?"

"Remus keeps us in line when it's necessary."

"Can he try to keep you from hexing my Housemates?" Regulus snapped.

Sirius frowned. "_I_ don't start it."

"Can you . . . Sirius, please . . ." Regulus begged. "_Please_ stop. Just pretend Slytherins don't exist if it'll get you through the day. Can you not make things harder?"

Sirius ignored the pleading and looked back toward the lake where the little blond witch was sitting beneath a tree, looking back at the brothers expectantly. "Your bird looks lonely. Go kiss and make-up with her," Sirius said, shoving Regulus toward her.

"She's not my . . ." He growled, watching as Sirius ran back to his friends. "Fucking idiot," he mumbled under his breath as he reached the tree and his sole Gryffindor friend.

"If it makes you feel any better, I _do _think you're better looking than your brother." She smiled up at him as he took a seat beside her, trying not to let colour reach his cheeks and give him away.

"It . . . I don't care about that," he insisted.

"Reg?" she whispered and, when his grey eyes met blue, she smiled softly. "I would."

"Would what?"

"Consider giving you a watch as a gift for Yule."

He smiled at her. A _genuine _smile.

When she opened her book bag to reach for her homework, Regulus looked down at his own books and frowned at the sight of the Black family crest his mother had the elves stitch on his bookbag. Yule watch or not, affections or not, there was no way his parents — blood purists that they were — would ever approve of a match with Marlene McKinnon.

* * *

**A/N**: The suspected mothers list was amazing! Everyone from Lily Evans to Luna's mother, Alice Longbottom, Dorcas Meadows, Mary MacDonald and even the mother of Romilda Vane! You lot are so creative! Those who guessed Marlene McKinnon, however, were spot on! I chose Marlene because she's a pureblood who I kind of gave a bad hand to in Debt of Time and I wanted to make her a likable character this time around.

Congrats to Lady Eleanor Boleyn, Seph Meadowes, StarGirlPotter, surugasasa, Guest, lilramenlover, Guest, cares 1970, KayKarenJasmin, Delancey654, 1994omi, chupeechan, Cheryl Grant, FallonNicole86, and BrownEyesAngel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Thanks so much to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing this story, and for those who've gone over and started reading _Tying the Nott_, you're all awesome!

Q&amp;As - **alli93**, **kyutiepie**,** Artemisgodess** Marlene McKinnon is one of those lovely background characters that JKR only gave us a small amount of information on so we fanfic writers can fill in the blanks. In the books, Marlene was an Order members that went to Hogwarts during the same time as the Marauders and Lily. She and her family died in a Death Eater raid in 1981 before the Potters were killed. **Lili-So**, Thanks. I really wanted to play with Marauder Era characters but give them something different than what I did in Debt of Time. **chupeechan**, The pureblood gifts thing was something I got from **Colubrina**'s story _Green Girl_. I loved it so much I put it in both this story as well as Debt of Time. **apriljunemay**, Yeah, in DoT I made Marlene a year older than the Marauders and a Ravenclaw, while this time I've made her a year younger and a Gryffindor. As for writing Sirius as Hermione's uncle after DoT, it's not that hard actually. I read so much that I'm able to jump from one world to another easily. I don't even think twice about Sirius being her uncle in this story. In my head he's completely different from DoT's Sirius. **mUmaRhz**, No. Most Marlene/Sirius pairings are all done in fanfic. **CGinny**, I am currently updating every Monday but working very hard to get far enough ahead that I can update this story twice a week.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Five

_Nomen_

* * *

**April 1998**

Her grey eyes fell over the scripted words on the soft page that smelled of dust and leather and something musky and just a touch sour, but came together as a good kind of stink that made Hermione feel at home. The old parchment, more than likely tucked away in Professor Snape's office, private quarters, or even his home, likely sat nearby while the Potions Master brewed; steam from the various draughts infiltrating the air and eventually the pages of her father's diaries, making them smell old and alive at the same time.

She remembered how Harry talked about Tom Riddle's diary in second year. How, when he put a quill to the page and wrote down a question, the piece of Voldemort's soul inside of the diary — the Horcrux — would write back. As Dark Magic as it was, Hermione was often tempted to touch her father's diaries with ink in the vain hope that he would speak to her through its pages, beyond the grave. Then again, there hadn't been a grave. Or a body. Voldemort's inferi never released him.

She exhausted herself with research trying to help the Order. Sirius and Harry always on her heels forcing her back to bed to rest when it was clear from her red-rimmed eyes that she had reached a limit. She didn't want to tell them that when she slept she had nightmares. The few times she woke in a puddle of sweat and tears, only to find either one or both of them leaning over her, gently rousing her from her anguished sleep, she lied and said it was all Bellatrix in her thoughts. _That, _they would understand. They wouldn't ask questions as it was expected she would fear the woman who had tortured her; had cut into her flesh.

She didn't tell them that she dreamed of a cave she had never seen; of an island in the middle of a lake and a locket that had been long since destroyed. She didn't tell them that she dreamed of an unquenchable thirst and of the undead rising from the waters to pull her down with them. With _him_.

She didn't tell them she dreamed of drowning. Of dying like her father died.

She breathed in the scent of the diary pages, forcing the tears not to fall in mourning for a man she had never met. She let the smell of the parchment wash over her, calm her and cleanse her and ease her worries. She let his words ease her curiosities.

_March 17th, 1976_

_I found Severus first. I should have known that he was planning something. For all of the lectures he gives the younger years about staying one's hand until the right moment, observation, preparation, and using resources like a good Slytherin should . . . he sure acted like a reckless fucking Gryffindor. He's been complaining about Lupin for years; too prideful to let it slide that someone had a secret he couldn't know all the details about, I suppose. I used to think he had issues with half-breeds and magical creatures, perhaps he was worried for his fellow students. Then last Monday, I watched my best friend stare across the Great Hall while Evans shared her dessert with Lupin — who looked disgustingly sick and pale — and I could see the jealous rage building up inside of my friend._

_Idiot._

_To let a girl — a girl who didn't even reciprocate his feelings — have such power over him. Weakness. It clouded his thoughts and made him reckless. When I found him pale and shaking in the common room last night, I could only have guessed what had happened. Full moon plus a raging Slytherin with a Muggle-born fetish and a werewolf who didn't even think twice about sharing a piece of chocolate cake with the girl. Oh, the outrage. He caught me rolling my eyes at him and called me a "pureblood prick" as though it were an insult. He can be such a baby when he's heartbroken._

_I met with Marlene for breakfast, ignoring the whispers coming from my own Housemates. They all think that I'm fucking her, which is despicable despite what the supposed customs are for young pureblood wizards. I watched from the shadows while Lucius courted Narcissa, eager to make sure she was safe and happy despite the fact I no longer had any claim on her. And not once — not once! — did Malfoy step out of line with another witch. Pureblood customs indeed. Maybe for purebloods of _lower _birth. Respectable families like the Blacks and the Malfoys have no need to sully their names and their bodies by bedding as many witches as possible before marriage. Well . . . except Sirius._

_I let my Housemates believe what they want. If they think Marlene is just some stupid slag I'm putting it to, then she's claimed at the very least, and they'll leave her alone. If not . . . gods, I don't even want to think what would happen. It's bad enough that they all think I take it too easy on my own brother, which I do, but to have them believe I was in love with a blood-traitor Gryffindor? We would both be dead. _

_And I do love her._

_Gods . . . I sound like Severus._

_At least Marlene likes me back. _

_I wonder how long that will last._

"Does it say a bunch of shite about _me _in there?"

Hermione gasped at the intrusion and slammed the diary shut, bringing her grey eyes up to her bedroom door to see Sirius standing there with a smirk on his face. She wondered if her father had the same smile. Staring at the man, her uncle, she was suddenly overwhelmingly pleased that she never developed a crush on him as Ginny had one summer. Granted, she had been busy spending her nights thinking of a certain werewolf that would remain unnamed and buried deep down in the recesses of her subconsciousness forever.

"He loved you very much," Hermione said, gesturing to the diary in her hands as Sirius stepped into the room and took a seat on the side of her bed. "Even if you were —"

"An egotistical arrogant arse?" Sirius grinned at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled softly. "Something like that."

He looked at the diary, touching the cover briefly before pulling his hand away and turning his attention to the witch. "How are you doing, little girl?" he asked, smiling at her and affectionately tucking a loose strand of black hair behind her ear.

She smiled at his attentions, the feeling of being loved and treasured by a father figure again felt healing. His words, however . . . she wasn't ready. Not really. "How are plans for the battle?" she asked curiously.

Sirius chuckled. "Sudden change of subject, that doesn't bode well," he said and smiled when her nose twitched at being caught. "Plans are going well," he told her. "As far as we can tell, Voldemort is still looking for the Elder Wand and doesn't know that four out of seven Horcruxes are destroyed and we know the identity of the other three."

Hermione flinched at the numbers. "Professor Snape is certain about the last one?" she asked, forcing her bottom lip not to tremble. She was a Gryffindor for Godric's sake!

Sirius frowned and nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not happy about it either, but it makes sense." He sighed, the weight of Azkaban and years in war aging him in the moment of reflection, in the moment where they both silently acknowledged what they both knew: Harry was a Horcrux. "I've never trusted the git but . . . Pensieve memories are hard to alter without being noticeable. Plus, he willingly took Veritaserum that he didn't brew himself. Threw a fit about it first, but he took it."

Hermione nodded, processing his words while her brain worked overtime. "And you're sure Harry will survive it?" she asked worriedly.

"Me? I don't know . . ." he shook his head, "but . . . Snape and Moony and even _you _have researched the hell out of everything you could get your hands on. I can't lie and say I'm not worried. I'm bloody terrified."

"Do you trust Professor Snape now?" she asked him.

He cringed at the words but miraculously held his tongue. She wondered if it had anything to do with her, this strange truce that had sprung up between the lifelong rivals. "I . . . I don't know, Hermione," he admitted honestly.

"I think you should," she said. "I think . . . I think he had a rough life too."

Sirius raised a brow. "Too?"

Hermione touched her father's diary. "He . . . er . . . Regulus," she said, frowning, "was very detailed about his childhood. _Your _childhood."

Sirius looked briefly vulnerable and instinctively picked at a small scar near his collarbone. He didn't seem to notice that he was doing it, but Hermione's eyes flickered to the site, wondering if that was one of the many bones that Walburga Black had broken. "Shite," Sirius muttered bitterly. "I . . . don't tell Harry or . . . anyone, okay?" he pleaded with her.

"I don't think badly of you because of it," she said. "You were being true to yourself. Protecting Andromeda and your friends and . . . and your brother."

Sirius nodded silently, still looking uncomfortable. Obviously not used to ever feeling or appearing weak, least of all in front of a witch; a witch he had spent the past few weeks saying he would protect and love as though she were his own daughter.

"Maybe . . . maybe it was good that I was raised by Muggles," she said softly. "I don't know the exact statistics, but children who are raised in abusive homes could grow up to become —"

"Don't," Sirius said cutting her off, his tone cold and firm. "Regulus wasn't cruel," he insisted. "He was an arrogant little shite when he wanted to be. Smart and unafraid to rub it in your face. He was Slytherin, so he was cunning and selfish at times. And gods did we fight, especially in those last few years. But you . . ." Sirius paused and took a breath to calm himself. "Hermione, I've jumped to a lot of conclusions about my brother in the past and have had to have the truth shoved back in my ignorant face. He would never have hurt you."

"He was a Death Eater."

"Yeah." Sirius nodded, pain lingering in his eyes. "Yeah, he was."

"You're sure about that?"

He looked down. "I saw the Dark Mark myself," he confessed but didn't elaborate. "He really was one of them."

She frowned and then tried to reason, "So was Professor Snape and now he's good. Regulus was good in the end too, wasn't he?"

Sirius nodded but then muttered, "Lot of good it did him."

She bitterly agreed with him. "Now . . . now I don't have a father. He never even knew me." Her chest felt tight as she spoke the words, but she tried to remain in control of her breathing. The last thing she needed was for Sirius to think she was any more fragile than he already believed her to be. "He died months before I was even born."

The large Animagus wrapped his arms around the small witch and held her close, rubbing her back and kissing her head. "You have me," he promised, pulling away to look into her eyes — grey, like his own. "Officially I'm your Patriarch, the Paterfamilias of your House and, without Reg here, that means you . . . you belong to me in his absence." Before she had a chance to object to the terminology, he clarified, "It means I'll take care of you. You and Harry. Once this shitty war is over and Voldemort is dead, we'll be a family. A proper family." He smiled sweetly at her and she couldn't help but return the expression.

A proper family sounded wonderful right now.

A thought occurred to her. "I'm going with Harry when he goes to Hogwarts to look for the diadem."

Sirius growled under his breath but then sighed loudly. "I was afraid you were going to say that. All too eager to sacrifice yourself for the welfare of others."

"Maybe I'm like my father," she suggested, her tone a touch bitter.

Sirius smirked at her. "Maybe. Your mum was a Gryffindor too, though," he said.

Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. "Did you know her?" she asked, desperate for information. There was nothing on the family tapestry and Professor Snape wouldn't let a word of her pass his lips, so all Hermione had to go on were small hints in the diaries, but even then there were so many and she hadn't read them all yet.

"Marlene?" Sirius grinned and confirmed what the diaries had led her to believe. "Yeah, we were friends. She was brilliant. Smart and funny and she didn't put up with anything. Friendly too. You . . . I can see how you're her daughter."

"Are you sure _she's _my mother?" Hermione asked, finding it strange at how easy it was to say the word "mother" in reference to a woman she barely had confirmation of, and yet acknowledging Regulus Black as her father, aloud, was still a struggle. "It . . . I'm only up to his fourth year at Hogwarts," she said, looking down at the leather bound book in her hands.

"My brother only ever had eyes for one witch and it was her." Sirius smiled, a look of happy nostalgia lingered in his eyes and Hermione smiled at the sight of it. "From the first moment they met on the train. It was rare for a Slytherin to be friends with a Gryffindor. If . . . I mean, obviously _you _exist so somehow they made it work, at least for a time. Despite being from two rival Houses."

Hermione nodded and then whispered, "In fair Verona."

"What's that?"

"A Muggle play," she told him. "Romeo and Juliet. You know it?"

Sirius scoffed, offended before dramatically speaking, "_'From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers —'"_

"'_Take their life'_," Hermione finished the verse with a frown. Sirius swallowed and nodded as silence fell between them. Hermione wondered if the grief would ever abate. Grief for her Muggle parents who were lost to her forever; grief for her dead parents who she never knew, and a lingering pain that had stuck around for far too long and if she could only will it away. "Star-crossed lovers never have happy endings, do they?" she asked him.

Sirius frowned. "I can't bring your father back, and I can't bring back your Muggle parents, but I'm going to give you a good life Hermione," he promised her. "I know you're not really a little girl anymore but —"

"I would like to be," she admitted. "War took my childhood from me. I think I would very much like it back."

He smiled brightly. "Would you like a pony, little girl? I'll happily get you a pony."

She laughed softly, the first genuine laugh she had had in weeks. "I'll take your hippogriff if you can tell him to stay on the ground at all times."

Sirius gasped. "You would take away my Buckbeak? Cruel, cruel witch," he scolded her teasingly before standing and kissing the top of her head. "Get some sleep sweetheart. We're infiltrating Hogwarts soon."

As Sirius walked out of her bedroom, he passed Harry at the doorway and leaned down, kissing the top of the boy's head as well. Hermione smiled at the sight, never before feeling more like siblings with the Boy Who Lived than in that very moment.

"Hey," he said as he approached her, hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets. "How're you feeling?"

She shrugged and moved over to allow him room to scoot into the bed beside her. "Better," she admitted. "No more seizures, very little pain. I'm ready to jump back in the thick of it with you."

Harry frowned as he draped an arm around her shoulders, twirling a strand of her black hair around his index finger and lightly tugging on it absentmindedly. "What if . . . maybe you should stay," he advised.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Harry Potter —"

He winced at her tone. "Hermione, I can't lose you. I thought you were going to die and it would have been all my —"

"It is _not _your fault," she hissed at him. "I am in this no matter what. Harry, even if it weren't for you, I would still be a target because I'm a —"

"You're not though," a voice said, interrupting her from the doorway. Harry and Hermione both turned to see a nervous looking Ron standing there, hands in his pockets, visibly anxious about stepping a foot into the actual room. "Not a Muggle-born. Not anymore."

Hermione smiled sadly at him and tilted her head in a gesture that silently invited him inside. He smiled and walked in, taking up the opposite side of the bed, sandwiching the witch between both of the boys. "Sorry it took me so long to show up," Ron mumbled and Hermione smiled her silent understanding and forgiveness at him.

She looked down at a single curl of hair that fell over her shoulder as Ron twirled it around his fingers, a recent nervous habit, she had noticed, that he had picked up from Harry. The hair was black, the colour of a raven's wings, the colour of the midnight sky, of obsidian and onyx. Black like her name. She wasn't Hermione Granger anymore. She was Hermione Black, pureblood. She didn't know how to be a pureblood, not especially in this war when it all came down to blood. The scars on her forearm were supposed to have been a reminder; something to constantly tell herself who and what she was and her value in the wizarding world to those who wanted nothing but to oppress her, cast her out, or kill her off. Now the words were a mockery of something she felt she used to be.

"I don't care," she said, more to herself than to the boys. "I . . . it doesn't matter what my blood status is. I'm in this war and I'm on the right side and I will fight for that side no matter what. I'm not leaving you alone in this. Never," she promised them.

Harry sadly nodded his head, clearly knowing what her response would have been. "Sirius doesn't want you to go," he said and then smirked. "To be fair, he doesn't want me to go either."

She rolled her eyes. "He's stubborn."

Ron snorted. "Don't even ask what my mum thinks about all of this. Any time she brings it up I tell her that at least Ginny's tucked away at Hogwarts. She clutches her chest all dramatically and starts praising Merlin."

"I wish I knew how to keep everyone safe," Harry confessed.

Hermione frowned at him. "It's war, Harry. People are going to get hurt."

"I know. Just . . . I hope it's none of _our _people," he said and Ron nodded his agreement.

Hermione winced. "Harry . . . my . . . father, Regulus . . . he was a Death Eater."

Ron turned his gaze away from her, clearly still not entirely comfortable over the news that one of his best friends had turned out to be a pureblood. And not just _any _pureblood but damn near Wizarding royalty. Not that the Weasleys ever cared for such things. The news that her father had been a Death Eater was also obviously eating away at Ron's very strict black and white way of thinking.

"I know," Harry said and sat up to turn and look at her, realizing his words must have offended her. "But he wasn't . . . I mean, he changed. He fought for the right side in the end. He died a hero."

"But he was _still _a Death Eater," she said. "So was Professor Snape. What does . . . do you think . . . do you think they're _all _bad? Malfoy didn't identify us when Bellatrix —"

Harry's and Ron's eyes both widened. "He tried killing Professor Dumbledore. He Imperiused Madam Rosmerta, cursed Katie Bell, and poisoned Ron," Harry said. "I don't think he would have killed Professor Dumbledore in the end . . . but he let Death Eaters into Hogwarts."

Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder to silently let him know that she understood and she wasn't trying to defend the Slytherin's actions, but she did have a point to make. "Professor Snape _did _kill Professor Dumbledore."

Harry furrowed his brow. "He's explained why."

Ron scoffed in reply.

"Do you think he's killed before?" she asked her friend, watching as he emotionally struggled over the question. "Do you think they just hand out Dark Marks for the hell of it? You show your pureblood credentials and suddenly you're just in Voldemort's inner circle? What did they do to get in, Harry? Who did they hurt? Who did they kill? I think it's highly unlikely that Professor Snape has been sitting around brewing potions while the rest of the Death Eaters go out on revels and kill and torture people," she said angrily. "Who do you think my father killed to earn his Mark?" she asked, her voice rising and breaking at the same time.

"Hermione . . ." Harry pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "Don't do this. He . . . there _is _forgiveness. He redeemed himself. Snape redeemed himself."

"What about the Death Eaters we're going to be fighting?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "They're different."

"Why?" she pleaded, her heart clenching painfully. "Because they haven't redeemed themselves _yet_? What if . . . Harry we're going to fight these people and we don't know who they are or why they're doing any of this. I don't know why my father was a Death Eater. What if we go into battle and I kill one of them? What if I kill Pansy Parkinson's dad? Theo Nott's dad is a Death Eater, but he was always nice to me. What if I kill his father? What if I kill Malfo —"

"You're not going to kill anyone," Ron said firmly.

"I don't want _anyone _to die," she told him. "They all deserve trials. Fair trials unlike what happened to Sirius."

Harry nodded in understanding but then he smirked as he tugged on one of her unruly curls, "What about Voldemort?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and actually laughed. "I'll make an exception for him, I think."

* * *

**A/N**: Next up . . . more Regulus!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene, some which may or may not include consenting minors (no adult/minor pairings). _**Specific Chapter Warning**_ for child abuse.

**A/N**: I'm so happy that everyone is still enjoying this story! Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews!

Q&amp;As - **LJ Summers**, currently there's no romantic pairing in the works for Sirius. He's all about family right now (at least in Hermione's chapters).

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Six

_Fratres_

* * *

**May 1976**

He really, _really _hadn't wanted to spend his fifteenth birthday in a fight, but fucking Severus had apparently decided to make the _entire world_ revolve around him — which was quite the change of pace for Regulus — and suddenly every damn move made between Gryffindor and Slytherin had something to do either with Severus's ridiculous outburst by the Black Lake or Evans's sobbing hysterics over the disbanding of their friendship.

"He has to stop it," Marlene was saying as she followed behind Regulus while he made his way down to the lake. If she was determined to yell at him in order to drag him into the theatrics their friends had created, he wasn't about to let her do it in the middle of the Great Hall like she'd clearly planned on doing.

"Reg," she said when she finally caught up with him, tugging on the sleeve of his robe to draw his attention. "He's been following her around and it's getting to the point where others are going to get involved," she told him, and he knew exactly what that meant. Others meant Potter, Sirius, Lupin, and most likely Pettigrew, but only because he was always there, tagging along and clapping like an idiotic puppet. "He threatened to sleep outside of Gryffindor Tower and the Fat Lady was throwing a fit about it. Alice threatened to get McGonagall and Mary had to take Lily aside to tell her everything about the watch she gave him in case he tries to invoke some pureblood custom indicating that they had an understand —"

"He wouldn't do that," Regulus said, rising to the defence of his friend. Severus was a lot of things — an absolute idiot at this very moment — but he wasn't someone who would try to trick a Muggle-born into a betrothal in order to get her attention. "Besides, Severus is a half-blood," he stated calmly, as though that made all the difference.

The ends of Marlene's curls began to spark and he did his best to hide the fact that he was was looking to where her wand was stashed in case she tried to hex him for his comments. "I don't care if he's the offspring of a hippogriff and a kneazle!" she screamed, "He is _stalking _her!"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Well, why doesn't she just talk to him?"

"Because he called her a Mudblood!" Marlene said, stomping her foot for the added effect. He supposed she thought it made her look angrier when in reality it made her look like a little girl having a temper tantrum, and he was having difficulties not admitting that he found it adorable.

When she audibly growled at him for a lack of response, he sighed dramatically. "_Everyone_ calls her a . . ." he began but caught the fire in her gaze and backed out a bit, self-preservation at the forefront of his mind. "But not me, of course not. Just . . . fuck, Marly, she can't toss aside years of friendship with the bloke just because he called her a name in a really weak moment."

She frowned. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"What Potter and my brother did?" he asked and shook his head. No self-respecting wizard would openly admit that his pants were pulled down, publicly in front of a group of peers and had to be rescued by a witch. "No. I had to weasel the information out of a couple of Ravenclaws who saw the whole thing. But that's _exactly _why I can't do a damn thing about him, Marly. It's _my brother_ that did it. Add this to the situation with the werew —" he stopped mid-word, cursing himself for being too caught up in the moment and cursing Marlene for making him that way.

She raised a blond eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"What? Nothing."

"You were going to say werewolf. Why would you say werewolf?"

"Why?" he asked her, noting the pink tinge to her cheeks. "What do you know?"

"What do _you _know?"

They stared at one another for a long moment of silence, Regulus questioning her intelligence, which he knew was higher than most of her fellow lions. Then again, he was genuinely shocked that most hadn't already figured out Lupin's secret. "I know that I'm a Slytherin and I'll be damned if I'm going to give up information just for the hell of it," he said and smirked at her.

She folded her arms across her chest defiantly. "What do you want in exchange?"

"From you?" He grinned. "A little less clothing could be optional — Ow!" he snapped and recoiled from her fist as she punched him in the shoulder.

"Don't act like your brother!" she snapped at him.

Regulus actually laughed at her fury. "Why not? Whatever he does _clearly _works for him."

"Yes, that's because he's a laughing, giggly, and idiotic Gryffindor."

"Aren't all Gryff —"

She stuck her pointed finger in his face and he was half-tempted to bite it. "Watch it," she threatened. "And you're a Slytherin. If you use your brother's lines, they'll come off . . . I don't know, creepy," she said, ignoring the offended expression that crossed his face. "He gets away with it."

Regulus frowned. "He gets away with a lot. Can't you . . . I don't know, have Potter or Lupin rein him in or something?"

Marlene scoffed. "James? Unlikely, he's worse than Sirius. And now that Snape's called Lily that word —"

"It's _just _a word," he insisted. While he'd seen the impact of the slur through his years at Hogwarts, it had taken him a long time to truly understand it. Growing up in a pureblood household he'd been taught what Muggles and Mudbloods were, but it was only upon arriving at Hogwarts that he understood how the two were even connected. He'd never known what a Muggle-born was until he'd finally met one. Still . . . they were all just words to him.

"— he'll never let up on him," Marlene continued, ignoring Regulus's interjection completely. "And now Lily's not there to defend him anymore. And it's _not _just a word," she said, jumping back to his statement, "It means something to people who are hurt by it. Words can hurt people, Regulus!"

His patience was running thin. Words didn't hurt people. Fists and wands and weapons hurt people. The broken bones and bloodied lips that Sirius took at the hands of their parents . . . _that _hurt. Lily Evans didn't know the meaning of pain.

"She's just being a baby!" he said angrily. "It's just a fucking _word_, Marlene! Evans has no idea what real pain is! She lives a comfortable Muggle life, with two parents who adore her, who don't even care that she's a witch. Then she comes to Hogwarts and gets mollycoddled by all the professors because she's a know-it-all little swot! She prances around the school ignoring our culture and customs like she's above us, all while dragging Severus around like a backup plan in case she doesn't snag one of the rich pureblood idiots that pant after her, like Potter!" he hissed and then threw out, "And don't even get me started on Potter!"

Marlene stood back and watched his rant then, when he'd finished, she shoved him hard in the chest, nearly knocking him over. "Don't yell at me, you arse! And don't talk about my friend like that! You have no idea what her life is like! Don't you dare judge her!"

"And you don't know _Severus's _life! Or my brother's!" he shot back at her, furious at Severus for causing this problem, at Evans for being dramatic, and at Sirius for starting the whole thing to begin with. "You fucking Gryffindors are so happy to go about thinking that you're better than everyone because Dumbledore pats you on the head when you do something good, and you're quick to judge when anyone else steps out of line, especially if they're not in your own House!"

"Only when it comes to Dark Magic, yes!" Marlene said, taking note of the way that Regulus briefly flinched at the words. "We _are _quick to judge! You think it was _one word_ that ended Lily's friendship with Severus? She's not weak. But she _is _observant. She's been watching Severus reading Dark Arts books, books that aren't available here at Hogwarts, even in the Restricted Section, which means he either bought them himself in Knockturn Alley —"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic."

"— or another Slytherin gave them to him! Your brother may be a skirt chaser, a trouble-maker and, above all, a bully when he wants to be, but at least he is not a future Death Eater!" she spat.

Panic flooded his chest and he reached out for the witch, placing a hand against her mouth, his eyes wide as he stared at her incredulously. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed at her. "Are you out of your mind?" he asked, his gaze flickering around the grounds, vigilant of anyone who might be within hearing distance.

Marlene struggled against his grip and finally broke free as she sunk her teeth into his palm. "No! Keep Snape away from my friend," she snarled. "Who knows what horrible things he'd do to her since she's nothing but a filthy Mudblood, right?" she said, glaring at him before turning on her heels and storming off back to the castle.

_Fucking Severus._

oOoOoOo

Regulus had fully intended on returning to the dungeons to confront his friend and drag him out of his sullen mood by force if necessary, that is, if he didn't hex him first. When he stepped into the common room and made his way toward the fifth year dormitories, he caught sight of a group of seventh years standing outside of Severus's room. "What's going on here?" he asked as he approached them all, taking note of the extra pale look on Severus's already sallow face.

Mulciber turned and grinned down at Regulus. "None of your business, Black."

"Piss off, Mulciber," Regulus said, not in the mood to deal with the older boy. "I'm not afraid of you."

The brawny wizard stepped closer in an attempt to intimidate the younger Slytherin. "Maybe you _should _be. Maybe that brother of yours should be," Mulciber threatened, not even being subtle about it.

Regulus sighed in disappointment. Sometimes it was clear that the Sorting Hat only took into account an eleven-year-old's family when placing them in a House. He had a thought to write the Board of Governor's, suggesting that in addition to Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, they implement a fifth House simply called, "Other" for people like Mulciber who were too stupid to be properly placed.

"Do I look to be standing in your way?" Regulus finally asked, officially tired of everyone assuming he was Sirius's guard dog. Lucius Malfoy had graduated Hogwarts already and the protection that was offered to Sirius on Regulus's behalf had been lifted. It was clear, however, from the beginning of the year that the rest of Slytherin House had been using Lucius and Regulus as an excuse to not attack the Marauder.

"There is the pesky problem where Sirius is never without his little gang of happy misfits," Regulus continued and smirked at the older boy. "Shame that despite looking like absolute and utter idiots, they're quite adept at dueling. Didn't I hear that Potter bested you in Defence last week?" he asked Mulciber who was now growling down at him. "Knocked you on your arse with a Melofors Jinxand you were walking around with a pumpkin on your head all afternoon." He chuckled at the memory as Mulciber's face grew red. "Isn't that a spell we all learned to cast and counter in _second year_?"

"You're on thin ice, Black. I could mop the floor with you if I wanted."

"Can you even afford a mop?" Regulus asked. "If not, I'm certain to have a few spare Sickles laying about."

Mulciber hissed, "I'll kill you, you little —"

"You could try," Regulus said, clearly unafraid. Even if the rest of Slytherin House didn't treat him like a prince — which they did — Slytherins were loyal to their own and Mulciber openly threatening Regulus in front of witnesses would do nothing for his own reputation. He'd be labeled a traitor and eliminated.

"Then again, I think you actually already _want _to," Regulus said, testing to see how far he could push the older boy before he finally snapped. "I can see it your eyes. Rage. You'd love nothing more than to curse the life right out of me." He sneered. "But you won't. Because I may be younger, may be related to the great Gryffindor git, but I am Regulus _fucking _Black, and I don't cower to _peasants _like you, pureblood or not."

Whether it was Regulus's confidence or the mention of his family name, which was as high as one could get without being a Malfoy, Mulciber backed off, still angry but smart enough to know better than to attack a Black, a _Slytherin _Black at that. The seventh years all turned and left Severus's room, slamming the door behind them.

"Do Blacks just naturally make enemies everywhere they go?" Severus asked.

"We're very charming people," Regulus commented dryly as he made his way further into the room, pushing aside Severus's books to make room for a seat on the bed beside his friend. "You should meet my parents. Then again, you're a half-blood which in their opinion is just as bad as any blood-traitor or Mudblood," he admitted. "Speaking of Mudbloods . . ."

Severus turned and glared at his friend. "Don't use that word in front of me."

"Why not?" Regulus shrugged. "I hear you've become quite fond of the term."

The other boy frowned. "I didn't mean to," he said softly.

Regulus nodded. "No. I understand that. But _she _won't," he insisted. "So do the school a favour and stop moping in the common room, grow some bollocks and, for the love of Salazar, stop stalking the chit outside Gryffindor Tower. You're making an absolute arse of yourself."

Severus turned and narrowed his eyes at the younger boy. "Didn't know you cared."

"About you?" Regulus scoffed, insulted, "Don't be stupid," he said. They were best friends, despite the fact that Severus apparently reserved that title for the redhead who was currently cursing his very existence. "Your antics have caused an avalanche of shite that finally tumbled through _my _door."

The older boy raised a black brow. "McKinnon?" he asked and Regulus nodded. "Apologies for interrupting your grand love affair," Severus said sarcastically. "You won't have to worry about it anymore. I'm done embarrassing myself over Lily."

_Praise Salazar!_ Regulus thought to himself. "Finally given up? Good for you. Move on. Forget the incident ever happened."

"I doubt that option will be available to be," Severus drawled. "Mulciber came to deliver me a letter."

"He looks a little inept for an owl," Regulus commented thoughtfully. "Who's it from?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"And what does the grand Slytherin Prince want of you?" he asked, trying not to appear overly intrigued by the fact that Lucius Malfoy had personally reached out to a half-blood still at Hogwarts, friends or not.

Severus looked down at the letter in his hands and whispered quietly, "He wants to meet me."

"Has he forgotten you already?" Regulus asked, leaning back on his elbows and looking far too relaxed, which made him the near mirror image of his brother, something that irked Severus to no end. "Shame. I like to think you leave quite the impression on —"

"Not Malfoy," Severus hissed. "_He_ wants to meet me."

Silence filled the room and Regulus's relaxed demeanor fell away in favour of stiff defensiveness. It didn't take an idiot to figure out who Severus meant. "Why?" he finally asked.

Severus swallowed, glancing up at his closed door he threw a specific Silencing Charm at it, one Regulus recognised as one of his friend's own creations. "Mulciber and Avery . . . they wrote to their fathers and told them what I said to Lily. Me publicly saying . . . they thought I'd finally chosen a side. Apparently, Slughorn has also been talking about my brewing skills to the wrong people. Or the right people depending on how you look at it." He frowned at the thought.

"How do _you _look at it?"

Severus began, "I don't . . . I don't think I could hurt her," he admitted. "I know I couldn't hurt her."

"They'll make you hurt _someone_," Regulus reminded him.

He wondered what it was like in other Houses. He imagined that the Ravenclaws all got together to prepare for exams, quizzing one another. Hufflepuffs likely sat in front of the fireplace, braiding each other's hair. Everyone knew that the Gryffindors played Exploding Snap and talked about Quidditch non-stop. Slytherins, at least as of the last year or so, discussed the Dark Lord and whether or not it would be advantageous to join in his cause. There were rumours and stories and myths about the wizard whose name was not supposed to be spoken though he had no idea why. Some said he wanted to take over the Ministry. Others talked about his plans to eradicate Muggle-borns and return the Wizarding world to the hands of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. No one appeared to know who the man's family was or what exactly he was getting in exchange for his efforts. What everyone _did _know, was that to join his cause, meant sacrifice; violence, bloodshed, and a magical tattoo on your arm that linked you to him. Regulus didn't want to ponder the significance of such a spell.

"Despite the _unfortunate circumstance_ of having a Muggle father," Severus said with disdain. "My mother's former estate, prior to her disinheritance, was considered somewhat impressive in its time. Slytherins all, and purists at that. They're recruiting among the old families."

"Which old families?"

Severus eyed his friend with disapproval as though he were questioning his intelligence. "The oldest. Malfoy's already been marked," he said quietly. "So has your cousin and her husband."

Regulus looked up in shock. "How do you know this? I doubt Lucius would put things like that in a letter." Of course, it was no secret that Bella would be eager to jump on board. Her distaste for all things Muggle was widely known and if anyone was handing her a free-for-all Mudblood slaughtering buffet, she would take it no questions asked. But Malfoy would never put himself under the thumb of anyone else without there being something in it for him, and with all the power and money in the world already at his fingertips, that could only mean that the Dark Lord had something over the Malfoys; it was likely that Lucius's father was already tied to the man.

"Mulciber has a big mouth and brags too much for his own good," Severus replied. "He's to take the Mark this summer. I suppose I'm being brought in to see if —"

"Are you going to do it?" Regulus asked, interrupting him.

Severus shrugged. "Maybe if I prove myself, I can see if he'll make an exception for —"

Grey eyes widened. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" Regulus asked incredulously. "Severus . . . you read the _Daily Prophet_ every morning. You _know _what they do. You _know _what they're about. And you're willing to just sign yourself up so easily?" _And all in the hope that the Dark Lord really didn't care whether or not a half-blood kept a Muggle-born as a pet?_

"Do I have a choice?" his friend bitterly asked.

Regulus shook his head, not knowing the answer. It did, however, bring up another question. "Will _I_?"

oOoOoOo

**June 1976**

He'd been surprised to find that his mother was perfectly agreeable to letting him meet up with Severus over the summer. He'd thought about lying and saying that he needed help with early O.W.L. revision, but decided to test out the truth first. Shockingly, Walburga Black had no qualms about her favoured son spending time in Diagon Alley with a half-blood.

He was instantly anxious when he stepped through the fireplace with a new cauldron and several books in tow to find his parents waiting for him; his mother looking happy and manic and his father all but mentally checked out, glass of firewhisky permanently attached to his hand.

"Regulus, darling," Walburga said as she snapped her fingers at Kreacher, who silently took Regulus's things from him, vanishing from sight. "Did you and your friend enjoy yourself? I've heard wonderful things about that Snape boy."

Shocked by the statement as his mother led him by the shoulders into the dining room where supper was already set out, Regulus blurted, "He's a half-blood," in an attempt to test the limits of his mother's newfound tolerance.

She waved off his words in a similar move that she used to brush off doxies. "Some things just can't be helped."

Regulus frowned. "But you always said that —"

"Think of it like this," she said, interrupting her son. "House-elves are simple, little creatures that we keep underfoot. They have magic, but it is nowhere _near _as powerful as our magic. Some house-elves are helpful to keep around to do the dirty work. Some house-elves have odd little talents that you like to have on hand. And then other house-elves should be put out of their misery," she said and gestured to the wall of decapitated elves. "Do you understand?"

He raised a brow, forcing an amused expression to please her. "Severus is apparently my house-elf?"

Walburga laughed and the sound was much too high for his liking. Orion, sitting opposite his wife, cringed. "Don't be silly, my darling boy," she cooed, petting his hair affectionately. "_He_ will be the house-elf of someone _much _more important than us."

He felt that same coldness in the pit of his stomach that he got when Severus mentioned being invited to Malfoy Manor to meet the Dark Lord. He knew that the event had already taken place, but not once would Severus mention it during their outing and Regulus couldn't decide whether or not he actually wanted to know the details. "Are we not the most important people in the world any longer, Mother?"

Orion glared at his son. "Watch the cheek," he cautioned the boy.

Regulus nodded his head. "Apologies, I meant no offense," he promised and then looked up as his parents began eating. "Are we not waiting for Sirius, or has he run off with his friends for the summer already?"

"Your brother isn't feeling very well," Walburga said, bringing a glass of wine to her lips. "He's in his bedroom."

Regulus briefly glanced toward the stairway that he could see through the open door, his heart rate accelerating at the sweet tone his mother used when speaking of Sirius. It was a tone of warning that he'd learned long ago. "What's . . . what's wrong with him?"

"Oh, he'll be perfectly fine, I'm sure," she insisted. "Just in case though, I would suggest staying away from him," she said, her words an obvious threat. "Now, we have a gift for you, my lovely boy."

Orion reached into his pocket and retrieved a black velvet box with the family crest visible on the top. "Your mother and I believe that you're old enough to wear it," he said, pushing the box across the table toward his youngest son, "and you _will _wear it with honour and pride."

Regulus hesitantly opened the box and forced himself not to vomit at the sight. "This is the Black family ring," he said quietly remembering the first time he'd seen it. He had been nine and Sirius's eleventh birthday had just taken place. The whole family gathered in front of the tapestry where their parents made a grand ceremony of presenting the family ring to their eldest son and heir. Sirius had taken it and worn it for years and, until this very moment, Regulus had been under the impression it was still on his brother's hand.

He pulled the ring from the box to observe it closely. His parents might have thought he was admiring the details when in reality he was looking for blood.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Walburga beamed. "It's goblin-made, of course, and is charmed to automatically resize to fit the wearer. I think when you go back to school in September, you will be the talk of the common room. All the young society witches will be eager to see it. The heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Black."

"This is _Sirius's _ring, mother," Regulus said without thinking.

"No, dear," she corrected him. "This is _your _ring. You are the heir to the Ancient and Noble —"

He could feel the walls closing in on him, his vision blurring. "_Sirius _is the heir. Firstborn son. This is _Sirius's _ring."

Orion narrowed his eyes. "Are you arguing with your mother? Over your birthright?"

_Birthright?_ Regulus swallowed. "No . . . I mean, of course not, father," he cleared his throat and took a long drink of water from his glass in hopes of stopping the sweat from forming across his brow. "I was taken aback. I'm humbled, truly," he lied but did so with impressive practice. "You both honour me with a gift such as this and a title to match it. I will not fail you."

Walburga grinned. "We know you won't."

oOoOoOo

When his parents finally left for a Ministry fundraiser to help support improvements being made to Azkaban prison, Regulus ran as fast as he could up the stairs to find Sirius's room locked. "Fuck!" Regulus muttered and ran up several more flights to his parents bedroom where he began digging through drawers until he found what he was looking for: Sirius's confiscated wand.

Making his way back down the stairs, Regulus aimed the wand at Sirius's door, "_Alohomora_!" and sighed with relief when it opened. An owl from the Improper Use of Magic office would likely arrive bearing Sirius's name on it, but hopefully by that time it wouldn't be something Regulus needed to be concerned with.

"Mother of Merlin . . ." Regulus gasped at the sight he was greeted with upon entering the room. Instead of sick in bed as his mother insisted, Sirius was laying on the rug in the center of his room in a pool of crimson. There was a large gash on the back of his head where black hair was matting in dried blood, and an already purple bruise covered the right side of his face. "Sirius!" Regulus shouted as he fell to his knees beside his brother. "Sirius, open your eyes. You stupid son of . . . what did you tell them? What did you say this time?"

Sirius's eyes fluttered open. "T-they wanted me to go to the Malfoys," he mumbled out the words. "I w-wouldn't go. I know what they . . . what they want me to do."

"You need a Healer."

Sirius shook his head, wincing when the pain — which had apparently temporarily abated — returned. "Will you owl the . . . the Potters?"

Regulus's eyes widened. "Are you insane? You want us _both _dead?"

Sirius tried to sit up, but the blood loss was too great. "I'm not staying . . . here."

"Then we agree on something," Regulus snapped at him. "If I don't get you to St. Mungo's, you'll bleed out on the carpet and Kreacher will kill himself trying to clean it up."

Sirius weakly laughed. "Blood-traitor's blood," he muttered and then fell unconscious once again.

Regulus's hands were shaking as he stared at his brother, who was likely dying in front of his eyes. "It's just blood," Regulus muttered. "It's just a word, it's just blood, it's just . . . why does everyone have to make a big deal out of . . . fuck. Sirius?" He looked down and nudged Sirius with the chestnut wand in his hand. "Sirius! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don't die! Don't die! Kreacher!"

With a soft pop, the spritely elf appeared beside him. "Young Master Regulus calls for Kreacher?"

"Kreacher I want you to Apparate Sirius to St. Mungo's."

The house-elf scowled down at the bloodied body of Sirius and then hissed viciously. "Kreacher is not supposed to go near the filthy stain on the Ancient and Noble House of Black!"

Regulus growled defensively. "You are _my _house-elf and are bound to obey _me _and I am giving you a direct order!" he said, noting the look of disbelief on the elf's face. His parents had clearly given Kreacher an order to stay away from Sirius, which meant they knew exactly what would happen if left alone. Sirius would die. An unfortunate accident. They'd publicly mourn and Regulus would be practically deified in the aftermath of Sirius's death. _Oh, fuck._ This was too well orchestrated.

"Kreacher," Regulus said, lowering his tone and putting on a mask of indifference that he'd perfected over the years under Severus's and Lucius's tutelage. "Apparate my brother to St. Mungo's and . . . and . . . and leave him there," he said, turning his nose up in feigned disgust. "Can't you see? He's bleeding all over the carpets and further staining our honourable house. I won't stand for such things. Get him out of here and tell the Healers that greet you to call the Potters," he said and then added, "Blood-traitors deserve blood-traitors, do they not?"

Kreacher seemed overly pleased with his orders and explanation, clapping his hands in delight, unaware as Regulus slipped Sirius's wand in the pocket of the Muggle jeans his brother was wearing. The house-elf finally stopped his little dance and bowed low before Regulus. "Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black," he said, gripping a handful of Sirius's blood-soaked hair, and Disapparated them both.

Regulus promptly vomited.

oOoOoOo

By the time he showed up at Marlene's house it was nearing midnight. He'd ordered Kreacher to keep silent about taking Sirius to St. Mungo's, letting his parents believe that somehow their eldest son had recovered long enough to break out of his room, retrieve his wand, and run away. How Sirius escaped wouldn't matter. He'd be blasted off the tree regardless, and Regulus, far away visiting friends to show off his new ring — at least that's what the letter he had left behind indicated — was innocent of aiding his brother.

"Reg?" Marlene said as she stepped out her front door when her mother mentioned a boy on the porch. "How did you get here?"

"Knight Bus," he mumbled, sticking to the shadows.

She stepped forward, a concerned expression on her face. "Are you . . . Reggie? Oh my gods! You're bleeding!" She gasped and reached for him to search for a wound.

"Not mine."

"What . . . what did you . . .?"

"He can't know." Regulus shook his head. "I needed to tell someone, I can't keep it in anymore," he said, his voice breaking as he struggled for breath. "They tried to kill my brother. My parents they . . . they tried to _kill _him. To replace him with me. I got him out but . . . he can't know. Marly, if they think I helped him . . ." He shook his head, unable to think of what they'd do. "He'll been blasted off the tree when they find out he's left. He's not my brother anymore. They'll want me to say he's not my brother." His grey eyes were filled with unshed tears, and when she reached up to touch his cheek he blinked, effectively breaking the dam. "He can't know. I have to . . . he needs to hate me now. It'll be safer."

"We should tell someone what happened. An Auror," Marlene whispered.

He shook his head. "Father can buy off the Aurors. Sirius has ended up in St. Mungo's so many times over the years and I know the Healers report it. They're required to, but still . . . nothing happens. It doesn't stop. It never stops. I think . . . I think it's going to get much worse," he said, reaching for both of her hands, bringing them to his mouth where he placed kisses to her fingers, ignoring the fact that it wasn't entirely appropriate to do so. "I think they want me to do something bad," he admitted.

Marlene's eyes widened. "You don't mean . . . Regulus, please don't say . . ." She panicked and tears started prickling at the corners of her own eyes.

"I love you."

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

His eyes met hers and he reached up, tucking a blond curl behind her ear. "I've loved you since I was eleven years old," he admitted. "I had everything money could buy growing up, but not love. Not friendship. I only had Sirius and now he's gone. I had Severus, but they're . . . they're bringing him in too and I don't know if I can trust him if that happens. Not unless they make me . . . all I have left in the world is you."

Her bottom lip quivered at the declaration and her heart swelled with admiration and affection and fear and sympathy for the boy in front of her, soaked in his brother's blood and pleading for her to keep his secrets to spare himself and Sirius both of a worse fate. "I . . . I love you too, Regulus," she whispered. "So much. You're my best friend."

His shoulders sagged in relief and he sighed loudly, releasing her hands and reaching into his pocket. "Then . . . then honour me by accepting this gift," he said and pulled a simple string of pearls to present to her. "I know it should be something better. Diamonds, emeralds, or rubies," he said softly. "But they say that pearls are the tears of the gods. Perhaps you're my Aphrodite."

"I'm not a goddess," Marlene said with a short laugh.

"Helen of Troy then," Regulus insisted as he clasped the necklace around her throat. "The most beautiful woman in the world."

Marlene swallowed, not used to him being so openly sweet. "Men went to war because of her."

Regulus nodded. "Maybe you'll keep men from going to war," he suggested. "White pearls," he said, swallowing down the bubbling emotions. "Are for purity . . . and . . ."

"Reggie . . ."

"Marly, I don't know what's going to happen, and I'll never ask you to follow me into . . . wherever I might have to go," he promised her. "But I will try my best to protect you. I need you to know that. I need you to know that whatever I might do or say . . . you know who I really am."

Tears finally spilled over onto her cheeks. "You're a good person, Reggie. I know that."

"Please remind me, if I forget?" he begged her.

She nodded and leaned forward, brushing her lips gently against his. Regulus responded immediately to the kiss. His first kiss. Their first kiss. Despite being highly inexperienced, he did what he thought Sirius would do and pulled the witch tight up against him, parting her lips with his own and drinking in the sweetness of her breath. One hand pressed into the small of her back, the other at the nape of her neck where he twirled a curl of her hair around his finger. His tongue pressed past her lips and she made a mewling noise in response and suddenly he understood everything his brother had ever said to him in regards to the subject of witches.

She felt soft and warm against his hands, and she tasted of goodness.

His parents were set to sacrifice him to the Dark Lord.

Marlene McKinnon would be his salvation.

* * *

**A/N**: As requested, the next chapter we will get a little Draco POV.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I hit a bit of a writer's block this weekend so I'm posting Chapter 7 tonight instead of tomorrow morning in the hopes that your wonderful reviews (and you're always wonderful) boost me and click something in my head to get me writing like mad again tomorrow! As you can see, we've skipped right ahead to the Battle of Hogwarts (not really any spoilers there). Usually in my stories if I go by canon for the final battle, I use the books, but this time I tried to pick a mixture of books, movie, and even the original movie script (if any of it looks familiar to you) as well as my own (obvious) changes. I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Seven

_Pax_

* * *

**May 1998**

Hermione Granger would be his damnation.

Draco was certain of it.

He should have been certain of it seven years ago when he'd first met the little know-it-all on the Hogwarts Express. But then again, it hadn't been raining Fiendfyre at the time. "Damnit, Vince!" he shouted. "What were you thinking?!"

Draco had known what his friend had been thinking, at least slightly. The very sight of Hermione Granger, even with black hair and grey eyes — something he had yet to question considering there was a battle going on — had set something loose in Vince's brain that, like the shortsighted neanderthal he was, said, "Mudblood. Must kill." When the Killing Curse sent her way hadn't worked, much to everyone's relief except, of course, for Crabbe, the idiot had set loose a Fiendfyre Curse that had them all trapped inside the Room of Requirement, turning it into a bloody oven.

He ripped Vince's wand out of his hand since he clearly could no longer be trusted with it. Draco's mother's wand had been lost beneath a pile of things a good thirty feet back and his original wand — _his _wand — was in Potter's hands. The blond Slytherin made a mental note to fetch it back as soon as possible — as soon as a flaming chimaera wasn't barreling toward him. "Run!" he shouted at Vince who was paling at the sight of the fiery beasts he'd created.

He could hear Granger screaming Potter's name beyond the fire and the sound of it grated on his nerves to a point where, had he not been running away from Fiendfyre at the time, he would have turned around and Silenced her for it. When they'd reached an impasse in the room, encircled in the flames, he winced and looked around for a way out, dragging Greg who was still Stunned. "Fuck!_ Rennervate!_" he shouted, finally reviving his friend.

Greg's eyes opened and he screamed at the sight of the rising inferno.

"Shut up!" Draco bellowed, dragging Greg to his feet. "Look for a way out! Where's Potter?" he demanded to know, looking through the smoke.

"Forget Potter!" Vince yelled and turned to make a dash for what looked like an exit.

Draco turned to call him an idiot; it wasn't as though he were looking to _save _the Boy Who Lived. It was, however, common knowledge by this point, that the Gryffindor had a penchant for escaping death; if there was ever a time to stick close to the Boy Wonder and his Weasel sidekick, now would be it. However, when he tried to tell that to Vince, he watched as a giant fiery dragon crashed down upon his friend, snapping jaws of flames around him and swallowing him whole.

Greg was crying. "Fuck, fuck, fuck . . ."

"Vince!" Draco screamed.

"Malfoy!" a voice called from above them as the flaming dragon turned its head in their direction, something Draco took as a personal insult to his own name. His silver eyes swept upward to spot Potter flying overhead on one broom and Weasel and Granger on another; he felt immense relief at the sight. Potter swooped down, trying to grab his hand, which Draco thought slightly amusing considering seven years ago the boy couldn't be bothered to do so.

"Me first!" Greg shouted and grabbed Potter's outstretched arm, shoving Draco to the side in a sprint for survival. Later, if they lived through this day, he would likely tell Greg that he understood; self-preservation was the Slytherin way, after all. But right now, Greg was nothing but an arsehole who just stole Draco's ride, forcing him to look to Weasel and Granger for help.

He looked up, desperate for help when he caught sight of the arm being extended to him. He winced at the sight of the scar on the skin spelling out _Mudblood_. Despite everything he'd been through — everything _they'd _been through — his initial reaction at the sight of the word on her flesh caused him to recoil.

"You want to stay here?" Weasley yelled.

_He'd been five years old when his mother caught him trying to convince the house-elves to bring him pudding before dinner one night. He was scolded and then told, "Don't touch the pudding _until _you've had your supper."_

_He was nine when his father caught him staring covetously at the wand enclosed within the serpent-headed cane. When he attempted to reach for it, he'd been disciplined and then told, "You may not touch a wand _until _you receive your own in two years time."_

_When he received his Hogwarts letter it had apparently been time for "the talk". His father sat him down and explained — in great detail — the problem with Mudbloods, also called Muggle-borns, and how they were magically inferior and a plague on their society. "Do not befriend them, do not mingle with them, and do not touch them," his father had insisted firmly and Draco waited for the usual "until" that generally followed a "do not". It never came._

_Do not befriend, mingle with, or touch Mudbloods. The point was very clear._

_So when Draco stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express at eleven-years-old and first met Hermione Granger, who excitedly attempted to tell him the entire history of Hogwarts, he assumed she had been pureblood and was, therefore, acceptable company in the eyes of his parents. She'd jabbered on and on about the castle, its enchantments, and Draco grinned at the way her eyes lit up when she told him about how the magic first felt when she had gone to Ollivander's to get her wand. He understood the excitement and thrill of owning his very own wand. _

_While he waited for Greg and Vince to track him down, having been told by his father that his childhood friends were to remain with him as often as possible because it was wise to travel in numbers, he enjoyed the company of the girl beside him who asked him at least fifty questions about his life, his family, and his anticipations for school. _

"_Slytherin," he answered when she asked what House he thought he'd be Sorted into. The girl made a contemplative face when he'd replied and then began listing the benefits of each House, making an audible note that a Muggle-born hadn't Sorted into Slytherin in recorded history._

_Draco laughed. "Well, no," he said. "They wouldn't would they? Slytherin's a House for _true _witches and wizards, not filthy —" he stopped at the look of horror on her face. "What?" he asked, confused by the way his new friend looked like she was about to cry. Then it hit him._

Granger leaned further, stretching her arm out for him. "Malfoy! Take my hand!" she pleaded, her gaze desperate as grey met silver.

He took her hand, ignoring the voice of his father in the back of his head, after all, it wouldn't have been the first time. Draco swung his leg up and over the broom, gripping onto her waist for dear life and burying his nose in her hair. _Fuck . . . how was it that even through the smoke she smelled like cinnamon?_

When they burst through a wall of smoke to greet clean air on the other side, the brooms and all five riders crashed to the ground, sounds of battle echoing in the nearby corridors. Draco fell to the side and lay face down, coughing, gasping, and retching as he tried to expel the smoke from his lungs.

"_Anapneo_," a familiar voice whispered nearby and Draco felt his airway clear, fresh oxygen flooding him instantly. He turned, blurry-eyed, to find Granger looking down at him with a worried expression. "Are you allri —" she began to say.

"C-Crabbe . . ." Greg was muttering, his body shaking as he stared at the blank wall that hid the Room of Requirement. "C-Crabbe . . ."

"He's dead," Weasley said harshly.

Draco turned and glared at the redhead.

"Ronald!" Granger snapped.

There was silence for a brief moment and then a loud bang in another part of the castle. Potter was quick on his feet and Granger and Weasley behind him. "Granger!" Draco managed to shout. "Don't!"

She looked back at him, shaking her head before she turned and ran after the others.

_Fucking Gryffindors_.

oOoOoOo

She was shaking as she helped to support Snape who was deathly pale and barely surviving. The antivenom they'd kept on hand after Nagini had attacked Mr. Weasley just a couple years earlier had come in quite handy when the trio found their former Potions Master in the Shrieking Shack, bleeding out from the neck. Plenty of potions and some quick wand work that Hermione had learned during her unbearably boring recovery at Grimmauld Place under Snape's tutelage had the recently retired Headmaster of Hogwarts temporarily patched up.

"_You could have died!" Hermione yelled at him. _

_Snape glowered at her. "That is not your concern, you stupid, stupid girl! Now be useful for once and grab the potion in my left pocket."_

She and Madam Pomfrey each insisted that he stay down, resting, but when Voldemort loudly declared the death of Harry Potter, Snape stood to see it with his own eyes.

She helped the man make his way to the opening of the castle to stand beside fellow Order members, Dumbledore's Army, and students who elected to stay behind and fight. They passed by George Weasley who was kneeling at the side of Fred, handing over a Pain Potion to help his twin with the broken leg he'd sustained when a wall crashed down on them. Sirius was moving quickly with everyone else, flanked by Remus and Tonks until he caught sight of Hermione and rushed to embrace her, quietly thanking the gods that she'd made it.

He and Snape shared a curt nod before their eyes were drawn forward at the sound of screaming.

Ginny rushed toward the Death Eaters, but Mr. Weasley held her back. Hermione inwardly cringed at the sight of her friend in pain, wishing that the redhead could have been let in on the plan. But they needed real grief to sell it. She imagined that — if it all worked according to plan — Ginny would have a few things to say, loudly, to Harry.

When she caught sight of Harry's body in Hagrid's arms, instinctively Hermione moved forward only to be held back by her uncle. "It'll be okay," Sirius said quietly. "It'll be okay," he repeated, likely to remind himself.

The massive procession of Death Eaters came to a halt in front of the castle, Voldemort himself leading them.

Ginny was screaming in her father's arms. "No! Harry!"

"Stupid girl!" Voldemort hissed. "You cry for _that_?" he asked, gesturing to Harry's body with a flick of his wand. _The Elder Wand_, Hermione noted. "Where was Harry Potter as you all collected your dead this past hour? While you all washed the blood of loved ones from your hands and offered up prayers to your gods . . . while you fought bravely in the name of Harry Potter, he had already been dead! Nothing but a boy who relied on the sacrifice of others. And now . . . a _dead _boy."

"He's alive," Hermione whispered quietly. "He's alive. He's alive," she said over and over again until the felt Snape's hand squeezing her shoulder in support. She could feel Ron's hesitant hand in her own as well, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Now is the time to declare yourself!" Voldemort shouted over the large crowd. "From this day forward, you put your faith in me! Give me your obedience, or suffer the consequences!"

No one moved.

Voldemort's red eyes scanned the crowd. "You," he said, pointing a finger toward Snape, "are supposed to be dead."

Snape sneered at the Dark wizard. "Sorry to disappoint you, my Lord."

"Perhaps," Voldemort began. "I will not offer clemency to . . . _everyone_," he said, his focus still on Snape.

Bellatrix giggled beside him until her eyes fell on Hermione and she hissed. "My Lord." She turned, her manic stare was pleading and she prostrated herself at Voldemort's feet. "Give me Potter's Mudblood," she begged.

The Dark Lord smiled in amusement at the sight of the witch on her knees before him; his most loyal follower, and by far his most psychotic. "Are you certain, Bella?" he asked. "It appears as though the girl has quite a blockade of brave wizards guarding her," he said, mocking the sight of Snape, Sirius, and Ron standing in front of Hermione. "Very well. I offer my hand to any who will take it, save for a few. Who seeks my mercy?"

"Draco!" Lucius Malfoy hissed, spotting a head of white-blond hair standing beside Greg Goyle among a scattering of shivering Slytherins that had broken out of the dungeons after being locked inside thanks to an unfortunate outburst from Pansy.

Hermione turned to look at Draco, her breath catching in her chest when he turned and made eye contact with her. She shook her head, silently begging him not to move. "Don't . . ." she whispered words he couldn't hear, echoing his own plea that he'd given her hours earlier outside the Room of Requirement.

"Draco, don't be stupid!" Lucius snarled at his son.

Hermione glowered at the man and his wife, the woman who might have married Regulus once upon a lifetime ago, as they beckoned their only child to join them on their side; the _wrong _side.

oOoOoOo

"Draco," Narcissa said, finally reaching out for her son.

He looked up at the woman pleading for him to come to her. He hesitated still, his eyes turning to look once more at Granger who was shaking between Sirius Black and Snape, his own godfather who was clearly on the opposing side of the war. _When had that happened?_ Draco wondered, adding a thought of, _and why the hell didn't he get me out of this?_ as he looked down at the Dark Mark upon his forearm.

Broken by the words of his mother, Draco moved forward with lead feet as he crossed the barrier between sides, stopping when the Dark Lord reached out for him, flinching in response. "Well done, Draco," he said.

Draco nodded once and hurried to his mother, falling into her arms and holding onto her tightly, wondering how they were going to get away from all of this. How the hell was he going to save the people he loved? He could feel his father's hand on his shoulder and Draco bitterly shook it off before turning to face the crowd opposite the Death Eaters, his eyes catching Granger's immediately. Draco didn't move, not even when his mother slipped a wand into his hand. He didn't need to look, he knew what it was. _His _wand that she'd clearly taken from Potter's body when the boy had finally fallen at the hands of the Dark Lord.

"Now don't be shy," the Dark Lord was saying, "who's next?"

Draco's eyes widened when Longbottom stepped forward. _Go back, you moron!_ he wanted to snap at the idiot who looked like he could barely stand, let alone fight. And if the boy thought he was going to take the Dark Mark, he would be sorely mistaken that he could survive the ordeal in the shape he was currently in. Draco had barely made it through the process himself.

The Dark Lord laughed, a high-pitched sound that echoed in the grounds. "Well, I must say I had hoped for better," he said and the Death Eaters around him, save for Draco and his parents, shared in the laughter. "Who might you be, young man?"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Welcome, welcome, Neville Longbottom. I'm sure we can find a place for you."

Bellatrix giggled. "_Someone_ has to do the washing."

The Death Eaters roared with laughter.

"Now, now, Bellatrix. Let's not underestimate our young friend. By stepping forward, he lives to see another day and —"

"I'd like to say something," Longbottom interrupted the Dark Lord. "It doesn't matter that Harry's dead. This war wasn't about Harry. It was about something much more. He's not the first to die and likely won't be the last. _You'll _die," he said, pointing at the Dark Lord with a shaking hand, the other holding nothing but a tattered old hat. "It's not over," he said, reaching into the hat and withdrawing a massive sword.

Draco's eyes widened at the same time as the Dark Lord raised his wand, something similar to hope building in his chest. The Dark Lord aimed a curse at Longbottom, who dove out of the way, carrying the blade in his hands high as it came down upon the head of the giant snake.

"No!" the Dark Lord screamed.

Many things happened at once.

Longbottom threw his hands over his head as the Dark Lord aimed his wand at the boy. In the corner of his eyes, Draco watched as Harry Potter's lifeless body sprung up out of Hagrid's arms and he rushed toward Longbottom. Draco looked up to see Bellatrix rushing forward; Granger on the opposite side, moving quickly, unaware of the impending danger coming right for her.

Draco broke free of his mother's hold and ran for it. "Potter!" he shouted, and when the black-haired wizard turned, Draco threw the hawthorn wand to him, watching as he caught it and threw a shield up around Longbottom, deflecting the Dark Lord's curse.

"Draco!" Narcissa screamed after her son and ran, Lucius on her heels as they chased after the young blond toward the castle where the battle had once again broken out.

"Granger!"

He looked up to see Bellatrix descend upon the girl, flinging curse after curse at her as easily as breathing. Granger, for all her strength, was fighting like mad just to keep up. Draco raised his wand — the wand he'd taken from Vincent in the Room of Requirement — and aimed as best he could while running and shouting, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

He missed.

He missed and his Aunt Bella's glare turned and fixated on him.

"Come to save the Mudblood again?" she said and cackled at him. "I _knew _you were lying when you said you couldn't tell who they were! Go on then, stand where you belong, Draco! Next to filth!" She gestured with her wand, her dark grey eyes manic as she followed him while he moved next to the witch.

Narcissa reached her sister and cried out, "Bella!"

"No!" Bellatrix snarled. "He's chosen his side! _Expelliarmus_!" she cried loudly and both Draco and Hermione's wands shot into her hand. The crazed witch giggled insanely as though she hadn't expected that to work.

"Shite," Draco whispered.

Bellatrix aimed her wand at the pair and, with a gleam in her eye, cried, "_Crucio!_"

In a move that no one suspected and everyone was shocked to see, Hermione and Draco turned and clung to one another as the curse hit, each trying in vain to save the other. Draco, physically stronger, screamed as he turned his body to take the curse in the back. Instantly his muscles constricted, tightening around the witch in his arms and they both fell to the ground.

Pain burned through his body worse than the Fiendfyre had felt. He'd been under the Cruciatus Curse before, even at his aunt's hands; clearly Bellatrix had been holding back at the time. It was damn near close to the pain he'd felt when he'd taken the Dark Mark, only everywhere instead of just a central spot on his arm that burned outward. Hot needles stabbed through every pore, along each nerve in his body, and he tried to focus on anything to keep him from blacking out. Granger's voice was it as she cried out for him, "Draco! Draco, hang on!"

Someone shouted, "_Stupefy!_" and the _Crucio _ended. It seemed, however, that the Stunning Spell had missed its target. Thankfully, though, Bella had turned her attention to whoever it was that had rescued them.

"Narcissa," Snape's voice was low and angry, "would you care to step away from your sister so you're not accidentally cursed? Since she's just tortured your son, I'd like to think you're smart enough to know what side of this battle you truly belong?"

Narcissa was quick to move, though when she stepped toward Draco and Hermione, Bellatrix shot a hex at her, burning her hand. The blonde looked up into the eyes of her crazed sister who was grinning while tutting her. "Naughty, Cissa." Bellatrix smirked. "If you'd like to take the little blood-traitor, by all means," she said, standing back to allow Narcissa and Lucius to reach for Draco should they were so inclined. "But you will leave the Mudblood."

"Do not use that word," Snape said with a velvety growl.

Bellatrix cackled. "Still strung up about Muggle-borns?" she asked. "You were _never _one of us."

Snape sneered at her. "Unfortunately, I was," he admitted. "But that girl is not only _not _a Muggle-born, she's my goddaughter and you will _not_ touch her."

All eyes widened, Hermione's included.

"What?" Bella grimaced. "Who on earth, besides my idiot sister, would be stupid enough to make _you _the godfather of a child?" She laughed.

Snape smirked. "Regulus Black."

Bella's eyes widened and she turned to glare down at Hermione, understanding clicking into place inside of her Dementor-addled mind. "No!" she screamed and raised her wand again but whatever curse was meant for Hermione, died on her lips as Snape shouted, "_Sectumsempra!_" and opened Bellatrix's chest.

"Malfoy, are you all right?" Hermione whispered, looking up at the boy who was twitching every so often, still hovering above her; a human shield.

His breath was heavy and his eyes wide as he stared down at her. "Black?" he whispered the name, shocked by the declaration that had come from his — no, _their?_ — godfather. Neither said another word as Draco was pulled from her by his father, leaving Hermione laying on the ground looking up at them all with grey eyes.

"Is it true?" Narcissa said through a broken voice as she looked down at Hermione, tears in her own eyes. She reached a tender hand out only to be cut off by Snape who moved to stand protectively between the Malfoys and the little witch.

"Severus?" Lucius stared at the man, his gaze narrowed.

At the sight of Bella's body bleeding out on the ground, Rodolphus Lestrange screamed in grief and anger and violently rose his wand in Snape's direction. "_Avada Ked _—"

"_Stupefy!_" shouted another voice. "Ha!" Sirius said, grin on his face as he joined his family — and Snape — looking at the Potions Master with a smug expression. "_You_ owe me a life debt!"

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Snape yelled, aiming his wand over Sirius's left shoulder.

The Animagus turned and stared as the frozen body of Rabastan Lestrange, wand still in hand and aimed at Sirius, fell to the ground, dead. "Fuck," Sirius said in disappointment over the fact that Snape had saved _his _life.

"If we're done here," Snape said and turned to reach for Hermione's hand to pull her to her feet.

"Where's Harry?" she immediately asked.

"It's not possible," Lucius was muttering under his breath, his eyes fixed on the little witch. He took a step forward only to find Sirius's wand jammed under his jaw, all laughter gone from the man's face.

"Come near my niece, Malfoy," Sirius threatened, "and I'll happily make my cousin a widow."

Lucius slowly raised his hands, sneering at Sirius as the black-haired wizards took the little witch by the shoulders and led her away from the Slytherin family. "It's not possible," he said again, ignoring the shocked looks on both his wife and son's faces.

oOoOoOo

The trio marched into the Great Hall where more fighting was taking place, each man on either side of Hermione as they moved. She turned, looking back at the Malfoys only once, surprised over their shock and desperate to end this war so she could return to Grimmauld Place and feast upon the diaries of her father to find out perhaps exactly why Draco's parents were so gobsmacked over the sight of her. It couldn't just be the familial relation, could it?

"Good on ya, Moony!" Sirius shouted and Hermione turned to watch as her former Defence Professor snapped the neck of Fenrir Greyback. A feeling of relief and pride moved through her at the sight considering the rotten werewolf had pawed her during her very brief stay at Malfoy Manor, groping her body and licking his lips. The sight of his dead body at the feet of a man he'd long ago infected brought her actual joy. At the realisation of her thoughts, she inwardly blamed the Black blood running through her veins for feeling delight over a man's death, even if it was _that _particular man.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled and pulled the witch into a hug. The pair of friends sighed in relief over the safety of one another. "Did I see _Malfoy _take a curse for you?" he asked, dumbfounded. "And Snape killed Bellatrix?"

"Where's Harry?" Sirius and Hermione asked simultaneously.

Ron shook his head.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" Harry's voice echoed in the Great Hall and everyone turned to see the Boy Who Lived face off against Voldemort. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does . . . _I _am the true master of the Elder Wand."

Hermione and Ron clutched at one another at the sight of their best friend, and she watched from the corners of her eyes as Sirius and Remus both moved forward at the same time toward the dueling pair as though to offer Harry backup.

The Malfoys moved into the Great Hall, Draco faster than his parents, muscles still involuntarily twitching every few minutes as he stood just behind Hermione and Snape, starring with anxious hope at the sight of Harry Potter fighting the Dark Lord, Draco's own hawthorn wand in the boy's hand.

Voldemort snarled and Potter raised the wand defiantly and each cried out spells simultaneously.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Draco and Hermione both closed their eyes and prayed: _no more war._

* * *

**A/N**: If you're having a rough weekend like me, cursed by writer's block (or whatever else) check out the HILARIOUS Tomione crackfic by **Colubrina**, _A Nose That Can See_. It had tears running down my cheeks with hilarious absurdity and I now read it anytime I need a good laugh.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Thank you all for the extra good vibes lately. I knocked out another two chapters of PTP and sent them away to Fluffpanda for her Beta magic. You are all severely awesome! Thank you! Early chapter because I love you all!

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Eight

_Bellum_

* * *

**July 1977**

Fifth year had been an absolute nightmare at one end and a dream on the other. Miraculously, Kreacher had gotten Sirius to St. Mungo's in time for the Healers to do their job and save his life. The Potters had been called as Regulus insisted. Soon his brother was resting nicely in a large Manor somewhere outside of Yorkshire, likely playing Quidditch with his friends over the holidays and being adored by the Potter family, despite his flaws, to compensate for his shitty childhood. Regulus wanted to feel bitter and jealous, but he knew Sirius deserved someone to actually take care of him properly.

Meanwhile, he was still existing in the aftermath of said shitty childhood.

When it was discovered that Sirius had escaped his well-planned "accidental" death, Kreacher had been punished severely by Walburga for allowing him to escape. Not once did the elf give up the secret that he had actually been the one to take Sirius away from Grimmauld Place and was under the direct orders of Regulus himself. Not once.

"You did very well, Kreacher," Regulus whispered to the elf as he helped nursed Kreacher's wounds late that night when his parents had gone to bed. "Your loyalty to me will be rewarded. I promise you . . . I will never put you in this kind of danger again." Regulus felt a bond wrap itself around his magical core, tying Kreacher's life force to his at the promise. As the elf grasped his hand, smooth fingers interlocked with Kreacher's wrinkled and scarred ones; the elf looked up at him and the faint whisper of, "Yes, Master" brushed between them.

Sirius was blasted off the family tapestry and the Blacks held a private ceremony where Regulus was _officially _presented the family ring in front of his parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella made a big show about how Regulus would have made a fine husband for Narcissa, though they didn't say such things within Lucius's hearing, and Regulus knew it was all lies and peacocking anyway. Uncle Alphard offered sage wisdom when it came to governing the family, and slipped Regulus a book on how to magically work the family tapestry should he choose to reinstate Sirius and Andromeda when he came of age. Narcissa sweetly kissed his cheeks and congratulated him, making no outward sign that Regulus's new title as heir of the family had anything to do with rumours that Sirius had nearly died in St. Mungo's after mysteriously ending up in the lobby, covered in blood. Regulus smiled politely at her, kissed her knuckles and shook Lucius's hand, trying not to show any hint of emotion when the Malfoy heir took him aside and mentioned that he had a _friend _who was very interested in making an acquaintance with the future of the Black family.

When Bellatrix showed up, the Lestrange brothers in tow, Cygnus and Druella could be heard arguing with her in the entrance hallway.

" — can't just walk in with _that _on display! Show some subtlety!"

"Bella, darling, just because we're all family doesn't mean that everyone completely understands and —"

"I am not ashamed to show my loyalties!" Bellatrix had screeched before walking into the drawing room where the rest of the family was gathered. She wore a short-sleeved black dress which was perfectly appropriate, especially since it didn't appear her husband had any qualms with her wardrobe. Her left forearm, however, was on prominent display; her pale otherwise flawless flesh covered by a swirling black Mark of a skull and snake.

"Lucius," Bella said, greeting Malfoy first which was a social faux pas since she should have met first the Lord and Lady of the house, followed by her actual Head of House (unless they were the same). Regulus knew that he would then follow the Head of House, being the proper heir, and the line would go on down the hierarchy.

Regulus swallowed back his distaste at her lack of social adherences but immediately noted that no one else present — save perhaps, Uncle Alphard — blinked twice at her actions. He felt anxiety bubble up in the pit of his stomach at the implications. This was no longer a family. This was a meeting of followers and, somehow, Lucius and Bellatrix were at the top of the newly established chain of command.

Where the hell did that leave _him_?

Dark grey eyes turned his way and Regulus lifted his chin as Bellatrix approached him. "Baby cousin," she greeted with a devious smile. "All grown up, are we?"

Regulus narrowed his eyes just a touch. "And hardly a baby," he said, taking her hand and kissing it quickly. "Cousin, you're looking well."

She took his hand and clung to it, reaching up and lightly digging her nails into his forearm as though she were sending a message. "You're looking like a proper heir to our Ancient and Noble House. Not like the filthy blood-traitor that came before you."

"We do not speak of him, Bella," Walburga politely reprimanded her niece.

"And why should you?" Bella said with a grin. "In fact," she turned her attention back to Regulus, "as a gift for my precious cousin and heir to our House, I will have that wretched creature strung up in the most gruesome way possible. Or would you like to see him screaming? I've become quite adept at the Cruciatus Curse," she said proudly. "I'm one of our Lord's favourites. He says I have great potential."

"As much potential as you have as a favourite," Cygnus said with a slightly irritable sigh, "your place is to stand as a wife to Rodolphus and to give the man an heir."

Bellatrix smirked. "I'll provide an heir, all right," she said confidently.

Regulus noted the slight cringe on Rodolphus's face. He couldn't help but think that when Bella spoke of heirs, she wasn't thinking of her husband. Regulus cleared his throat to change the subject. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, cousin," he said, looking at Bellatrix, "now isn't the time to draw unwanted attention, is it? He may be a blood-traitor, but perhaps you should put your efforts into dealing with Muggles and Mudbloods," he suggested.

It had, of course, been his hope to redirect his family's wrath toward those he cared little for. He knew of only one Muggle-born and she's broken his best friend's heart so what did she matter to him? As for Muggles, he'd never met one before in his life. But if he were to soften the Black family's position in regards to blood-traitors, there might be hope that his understanding with Marlene would be properly acknowledged when it came time to publicly announce it. In the long run, it might help bring Andromeda and Sirius back into the House as well.

Bellatrix grinned. "These," she gestured as if his words were floating in the air, "are the words of a _true _heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. You should try to be a better influence on your little half-blood friend," she advised.

Regulus nodded. "You speak of Severus?"

Bella laughed. "He has a bit of an . . . _obsession _we hear."

"Evans," he said. "A pesky little Mudblood," he spoke the rehearsed words as naturally as possible. "She's hardly a problem though. An annoying little chit with no real power or persuasion. Quite beautiful, or so I've been told." He shrugged. "I've hardly looked in her direction but I say, let him keep his little pet. A poorly bred owl is still useful as a familiar when it needs to be."

Bellatrix giggled like a young schoolgirl tittering over her first crush. Regulus inwardly grimaced as the sound washed over him.

Lucius was smiling. The sight was disconcerting. "Regulus, you and Severus are invited to my home next summer. I hope you'll accept the invitation."

He knew what this was and knew what his answer was supposed to be. There was no choice. "I'd be delighted, Lucius, thank you. I assume Severus has already accepted?"

Lucius nodded. "He would be foolish not to. Anyone would be foolish not to. It doesn't take a Legilimens to know that."

A coldness fell across his skin and he smiled politely, adequately disguising his fear. _So, the Dark Lord was apparently a Legilimens._ That would make things exponentially more difficult.

oOoOoOo

**September 1977**

"Why do I need to check out books on Occlumency?" Marlene asked. "The library isn't closed to you. Reg, is that a bruise?" She reached up to touch his cheek. "What the hell happened?"

He brushed her hand away from his face. "I'm fine," he assured her. "Just had a run in with Sirius on the way to Potions this morning."

She frowned. "Reg . . . maybe you should tell him —"

"I can't," he said, cutting her off. "I know what I have to do in order to keep everyone I care about safe. For fuck's sake, they're already looking for reasons to get rid of Severus and — other than his obsession with Evans — he's shown nothing but loyalty and ambition to serve. I have to take care of him, vouch for him. I have to know their plans so I can keep Sirius away from it all . . . and you."

Marlene touched the string of pearls around her neck affectionately and Regulus felt his chest puff out, a swell of pride building within him at the sight. "If they . . . if _anyone _knew the truth I'd become a target. They would use me against Sirius and him against me. Gods forbid anyone find out about you."

"I'm your dirty blood-traitor secret?" she said, scowling.

He reached up and cupped her cheek affectionately. "You are my treasure and I forbid anyone take you from me," he said, his eyes hard and cold at the thought. "I would slaughter anyone who even tried."

She looked away from him. "Don't talk like that," she pleaded. "I . . . you're supposed to be good, remember? I'm supposed to remind you."

Regulus sighed. "I . . . I can't lie to you. I would hurt anyone who even thought about touching you, but the people who would think about such a thing, would deserve to suffer. I can promise you that."

"Who else is going to suffer?" she asked nervously.

His posture stiffened. "A lot of people."

Her bottom lip quivered. "At _your _hand?"

He held his breath and swallowed, trying to force down the bile that was rising in his throat. "Yes," he blurted out and then quickly added, "I don't _want _to. Merlin knows I don't want any of it, but they have to think that I'm with them. I can't give them any reason to doubt. It's why I'll take a Stinging Hex from Sirius on the way to class and let him think that I'm a prick. It's why I'll publicly ignore you and call you a blood-traitor even though you're the very breath that gives me life."

"It's why you'll hurt people," Marlene whispered.

Regulus nodded. "Am I damned for it?"

She shook her head. "It really is going to be a war, isn't it?"

"Am I damned for it? For sacrificing others for —"

"The greater good?"

Regulus scoffed. "Fuck the greater good, I'm selfishly doing this for my own reasons. And those reasons need to be kept secret from the Dark Lord, who is a _Legilimens_. Which means I need you to check out books on Occlumency, study it yourself to keep Dumbledore out of your head if he ever gets suspicious. Severus and I need to start learning immediately though. We've only got until next summer."

Her face paled. "What happens next summer?"

Instead of answering her like she wanted, Regulus leaned forward and kissed her, pulling her into the dark alcove and throwing up a quick Notice-Me-Not Charm to distract anyone from spotting them as he did his best to distract his witch from thinking about the growing war, his place in it, and the horror he would have to face next summer . . .

When he would take the Mark.

oOoOoOo

**February 1978**

Legilimency, it turned out, came naturally to both of the young Slytherins. However, the consequences of such a natural talent were growing more and more irritating.

"You're never going to pass your Transfiguration exam if you just sit and stare at Evans during class," Regulus said to the annoyance of Severus who was throwing back a Pain Potion after their most recent session in learning Occlumency. "And don't even deny it, I saw the memory."

Severus glared at him. "Then when you stumble upon a memory of her, look elsewhere. Do you think I enjoy watching your memories of getting under McKinnon's jumper?"

Regulus smirked.

_The first day back at Hogwarts after the Christmas hols had Regulus pinning Marlene against a wall in an empty classroom at the end of a long corridor that had been closed off due to Peeves flooding the nearest bathroom. The water had been cleaned up, but the rooms had been switched for classes until all the damage was repaired. As his hand snaked under Marlene's jumper, his thumb brushed against the underside of a breast, Regulus made a mental note to do something nice for the suddenly wonderful Poltergeist. _

_As delicious as her lips were and as much as he delighted in kissing her — especially when he discovered the delectable noise she made anytime he lightly bit her lower lip — he was finding himself desperate to touch and taste the rest of her. Anytime he voiced his thoughts on such things, she would laugh and tell him that he was more like his brother than he thought. _

_Regulus would be annoyed at the suggestion that he was as easily distracted by girls as Sirius, but then Marlene would question him with a third year Arithmancy equation while brushing her knee against the inside of his thigh and he would start babbling on about Ancient Rune translations in an effort to show that he was paying attention. She would giggle and he'd growl and swallow her sounds._

_When she wantonly moaned as he palmed her breast, he couldn't help but wonder if sexual prowess was something that was gifted to the men of House Black, considering his inexperience seemed to offer him few moments of inadequacy. His ego quickly deflated when he spent five minutes trying — angrily — to unhook her bra. _

_The first time he touched her bare skin with his hands he groaned at the softness of her. The first time he pulled a nipple between his lips she moaned loudly and the sound alone had him coming. He did his best to hide his expression of elated pleasure followed by complete mortification by burying his face between her breasts — which was his new favourite place in the world — and muttering a very quiet Scourgify while simultaneously continuing his oral ministrations as her fingers dug through his hair._

Severus had made a disgusted face when he stumbled upon the memory. "Could you be any more smug about this?" he snapped. "Are you even _trying _to put you your Occlumency Shields, or is this some sick game you're playing to shove your sex life with McKinnon in my face?"

Regulus sneered. "Unlike my brother, I'm quite content to keep my personal affairs private, thank you."

They both shook their heads in disgust.

"I can't believe he didn't get expelled," Regulus said thoughtfully.

Severus glared. "Don't look impressed with your brother," he said, scolding the younger wizard. "It doesn't take a genius to be able to convince a Hufflepuff to shag in a broom closet."

Regulus smirked. "No, but to get caught by the Headmaster himself and only end up with two weeks of detention? You have to admit, that's fairly impressive."

Severus rolled his eyes. "If you think it's impressive to be forced to walk back to your common room without your trousers, then yes, very impressive," he said sarcastically, "overwhelmingly awe-inspiring."

They shared a laugh at Sirius's expense, though the Gryffindor didn't seem perturbed by the now legendary story going around the school over how he'd left behind a pair of trousers in a broom closet and walked away with black and yellow knickers to add to a disgustingly large collection.

Done laughing, the pair went back to their private Occlumency lessons and hit a bout of success when they realised they needed to search for shame-filled memories. Regulus caught only five seconds worth of Severus's memory of being hung upside down in his underpants by Sirius and Potter before Occlumency shields went up so strong they almost felt permanent. Severus saw even less of Regulus's memory of finding Sirius almost dead in his room.

"Do you think it will be enough?" Regulus asked.

Severus nodded. "To get in without suspicion of where our loyalties rest? Yes," he confirmed. "Besides, we're just looking to get through the meeting before we're Marked. And it's not as though we're looking to take down his operation from the inside," he reasoned.

Regulus nodded. "No. Let the man conquer the world for all I care, so long as me and mine are left alone."

oOoOoOo

**July 1978**

Severus and Regulus waited outside the gates of Malfoy Manor until a Death Eater approached, letting them inside without a word. They walked the long way through the grounds until they reached the centuries old mansion to be greeted by a smiling Lucius who promptly introduced them both to his father, Abraxas, a man with short white-blond hair unlike Lucius's which remained long and tied back with a black piece of leather. Abraxas was, nonetheless, as intimidating as his son and much less charming.

But he was nothing compared to the man they met next.

Lucius walked them both into the large drawing room where Regulus witnessed the usually collected Narcissa, hands trembling ever so slightly as she poured tea for a tall black-haired man sitting at the head of the table in Acromantula silk robes, looking as though he were Lord of the manor, which, Regulus assumed, he technically was. "My Lord, may I present Regulus Black," Lucius said, gesturing to the sixteen-year-old Slytherin, "and, of course, you've already met Severus Snape."

Regulus gave a polite nod of the head and Severus did likewise.

The Dark Lord turned and appraised both boys with interest. He looked like any other wizard but, though they could not see it with their own eyes, the aura around him was blacker than Regulus's name and the air in the room was colder merely because this man sat within it. "Ah, yes," he finally spoke, "the boy whose heart bleeds for Muggle-borns," he said, his attention falling first to Severus.

The half-blood boy swallowed what little pride he actually possessed, recognising the provocation and rising to meet it the only way he knew how without appearing weak. "I am honoured to be remembered, my Lord."

The Dark Lord chuckled quietly at Severus's words and Regulus briefly hoped that neither of them blacked out at the sound. Their nerves were shot and they'd each needed to drink a Calming Draught before arriving at the manor, just enough to ease the nerves but not so much as to cloud the mind and accidentally lower their Occlumency shields, which were damn near perfect. "At least he has a sense of humour. Tell me young Master Snape, how is your little Mudblood?"

"Still won't speak to me, my Lord," Severus said casually as though speaking to an old acquaintance.

Regulus snorted, not one to let Severus take all the attention, mostly because if pressed, he was more than likely to bungle everything up for the both of them. Better to divide the Dark Lord's attention equally. "He's all the better for it," Regulus said. "The girl had a tendency to prattle."

Voldemort smirked, turning his focus on Regulus. "And the young Black heir. I've been wanting to meet you for quite some time. Tell me, what are your thoughts on your friend's little pet?"

Regulus shrugged, the brief movement of his shoulders lightly jostled the few contents of his stomach which were already threatening to evacuate due to his nerves. "I don't know how half-bloods are brought up, my Lord," he said, addressing the Dark Wizard, "but are purebloods not encouraged to practice their skills on unsuitable witches before finding a proper wife? Perhaps if all the Muggle-borns served a purpose they would not constantly seek to rise to positions too high for their birth."

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully as he brought the small teacup to his mouth. Regulus cast a glance at Narcissa who watched the man closely, as though any moment he could easily declare that she'd tried to poison him and have her killed for it. When he set the cup back down empty, her shoulders sagged with obvious relief. "Do you not think all Mudbloods should be eradicated?" the Dark Lord asked. "I should tell you, young Regulus, _that _opinion will not be popular among my . . . friends."

Regulus shook his head. "Just because a house-elf is of lesser magic than a wizard, does not mean it's not useful," he said, practically quoting his mother. "I have the _ability _to scrub the floors should the need arise, but why would I ever do such a thing when I've a perfectly good servant on hand?"

"I see," the Dark Lord said, his expression one of contemplation. "You think Mudbloods have a place in our world. Servitude."

"Killing them all would create a mess, would it not?" Regulus said, slyly smirking.

"And the blood-traitors?" Voldemort asked quickly. "Like your brother?"

Regulus was prepared for Sirius to be brought up. It was likely that the moment his brother had been sorted into Gryffindor, Bellatrix would have been jabbering on and on about her blood-traitor cousin and could she please sacrifice him in the name of her Dark Lord for a pretty pat on the head? Regulus appeared emotionally unaffected. "It would be a great tragedy against magic itself to spill such pure blood, my Lord. Blood-traitors are lost children in need of a strong hand to bring them back into the fold. If every wayward hippogriff was slaughtered when roaming, soon the whole herd will perish."

"Ah." Voldemort grinned and Regulus could sense Severus's hands clenching at the sudden change of expression. "So, it is the _caretaker _that is to blame? In the case of your brother, would that not be your own parents?"

"So you say, my Lord," Regulus said immediately. "Blame the caretaker, or perhaps, the thief who comes in the night and opens the gate," he suggested, his implication in this case being Dumbledore, of course.

The Dark Lord's grin widened and he let out a loud laugh that startled both Severus and Regulus and even a few of his Marked Death Eaters that stood nearby, Lucius included. Narcissa nearly dropped the teacup in her hand at the sound. "This is why I need fresh blood! Do you see Abraxas?" Voldemort said, gesturing to Regulus. "There is little purpose in mindless slaughter when we have _conquerors _in our midst. Tell me, Regulus. How would you like to sit on a throne?"

The Black heir had never been more pleased that Severus excelled at brewing Calming Draught. _A throne? A fucking throne? Was this a joke or a test?_ Regulus didn't even want the bloody family ring! He tilted his head curiously and smiled in a way to hide his growing nausea. "I've always been a bit on the small side, my Lord. A throne might be too big for my frame. I'd be happy enough now to ride a broom and play Quidditch. Should you like to _give _a throne to me, I'd be more than happy to ask you to keep it warm for me."

Severus finally broke his gaze away from Voldemort and turned his incredulous stare upon his friend, a silent, _Are you out of your fucking mind?_ written across his face.

The Dark Lord merely smirked and reached for his empty teacup. Narcissa jumped to quickly refill it much to Lucius's obvious relief. "I've always liked the Black family," Voldemort admitted. "So very clever. Lucius, bring in our guests," he said, gesturing to the Malfoy heir. "These are neither wayward hippogriffs nor useful house-elves," he said to Regulus as Lucius disappeared through a door returning moments later with two young girls, bound with rope and gagged.

Voldemort stood and walked across the room to see them up close and Severus and Regulus followed behind him. "Muggles, both of them," he said with a tone of severe disdain. "Tell me, Regulus, in your opinion, where do Muggles stand in our world?"

He looked into the eyes of the Dark Lord and saw the truth there. Blood-traitors could be re-educated, Mudbloods could serve a purpose, but Regulus could see that Muggles were nothing but a disease in the Dark Lord's eyes, and no amount of sweet talking would change Voldemort's opinion of that. _This _was the test. The test that, if failed, would kill he and Severus both. "They are an infestation, my Lord," Regulus said, mimicking the Dark Wizard's look of disgust.

"Very good, my boy. An infestation, did you hear?" The man leaned down and stared at the crying Muggles who had been forced to kneel at his feet. "Please, do mind the carpet when you exterminate them for me," the Dark Lord said as he turned and walked past the two initiates.

Regulus stiffened and his breathing increased. Severus took notice of it immediately and tried to intervene. "My Lord, I would request the honour of disposing of them both as my friend is still underage and has the Trace on his wand."

Voldemort snapped his fingers and a random Death Eater from the corner approached the boys, extending a black wand out to Regulus. "Then use a different wand."

Regulus took the wand, doing his best not to let his hand shake. "You are most gracious my Lord," he said and then looked down at the girls kneeling before them. They'd talked about this before when discussing the different scenarios that could happen. Severus mentioned that he'd heard of a Numbing Spell to help ease the burden of a Crucio should they be forced to torture someone. They both agreed to appear offended should they be asked to sully themselves by raping anyone, but murder . . . there was just no way around that. Regulus tried to reason that, if left alive, the girls at his feet would be given to Death Eaters more inclined to enjoy themselves beforehand. Still, he was terrified.

_Be brave like Sirius, _he thought as he raised his wand._ "Avada Kedavra_!"

The pain from the tear in his soul rivaled that of the physical anguish that came with taking the Mark. The tip of the Dark Lord's wand touched his arm and set a curse upon his flesh that felt like a branding iron. Instead of a burn that eventually goes numb from the pain, the iron stayed hot and his skin remained innocent as though fighting back of its own accord even though Regulus pleaded with it to just accept the Mark and end the pain.

"It's okay if you cry," Lucius whispered when he was ordered to bring Regulus and Severus a glass of water to help them through the worst of it when they'd screamed their throats raw from the searing pain. "We all cried. It's normal."

Regulus cried.

He screamed and sobbed and wept. When it felt like there was a mild reprieve two hours in, he vomited in a large bucket that Narcissa had conjured for him and, when the curse was over and his forearm bore the brand of the Dark Lord, he looked up at Voldemort through sweat-soaked black hair and thanked him for the privilege of suffering at his feet.

Severus recovered first and helped Regulus to stand where they were both given a black robe and a silver mask. They bowed low before their Lord and were told to enjoy the following year at Hogwarts, but to expect their holidays to be quite occupied. They graciously bid farewell before Severus Side-Along-Apparated them to Diagon Alley where they purchased private rooms for the night at the Leaky and cried themselves to sleep.

* * *

**A/N**: This version of Voldemort was inspired by **Colubrina**'s charmingly sociopathic version in _Green Girl_. He was too lovely not to replicate in my own twisted ways.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Yes, it's still me, shealone. I changed my name this weekend because I was expanding a bit to other sites and platforms where the account name "shealone" had already been taken and I figured it was time to officially change to my pen name (given to me by fellow wayward witches from VV and Bewitching-Fiction). This chapter is going up a day early because the weather is absolute garbage here and it's depressing as hell, so I'm spending extra time at the computer today to avoid looking at the windows. I have a new one shot up as a birthday gift to reader **Lcky**, called _Touched Fire_, just a little smutty Charlie/Hermione story. Speaking of new stories, **Colubrina** indulged me by expanding on one of her Dramione one-shots by several chapters. Go check out _Fairy Stone_.

Also, my profile/bio has been updated to include all links where you can find me (and my new name) including Pinterest (where I've posted cast inspirations for this and many other fics), Tumblr, and Twitter. Come follow me so I'm not bored on social media.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Nine

_Poena_

* * *

**June 1998**

The room was dark, damp and dreary. It seemed that the original theme still prevailed after several thousand years, the walls of dark stone, appearing damp as the torch lights flickered off their smooth surfaces. High benches on one side sat the members of the Wizengamot, all dressed in plum-coloured robes, a silver "W" embroidered on the front signifying their honourable positions. Around twenty or so members sat in the back rows, scattered and cluttered together in what seemed recognisable as old school cliques turned long term alliances. Twenty-eight seats sat in the front, signifying the most important members of the Wizengamot: the Heads of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Twenty-eight magical pureblood families, dating back long before the International Statute of Secrecy. The Heads of those Houses had been given prominent seats on the Wizengamot, which offered them positions in the governing of Wizarding Britain, as well as additional power and influence over their own House. Plenty seats were empty as the Wizengamot gathered. The seat for House Shacklebolt was empty, as their Head of House took his place as Minister for Magic. Other unoccupied chairs were just so because there remained no one left to take it, such as the Houses of Crouch and Gaunt. Remaining seats were empty because their Heads of House were unworthy to occupy them, as the Wizengamot was gathered today to prosecute known Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters. The seats of Yaxley, Avery, Carrow, Lestrange, Travers, Nott, Rosier, and Rowle all remained unoccupied because the Death Eaters that held position as Heads of House would soon be sent to Azkaban if the Wizengamot had anything to say about it.

One seat sat empty in the very center and a pair of silver eyes was unable to look away from it, gaze tracing slowly over each individual letter engraved upon the fine wooden finish.

_Malfoy_.

The large gathered crowd behind Draco and his family was busy with whispers and murmurs, none of which gave him hope. His mother gently squeezed his hand for support and, though his face gave away not an ounce of emotion toward her, the gentle squeeze he gave back was his own silent way of giving her the love and comfort she needed from her devoted son. His father, on the other hand, sat beside Narcissa, a look of smug anger painted on his features. Draco scowled at the sight. Even if Lucius Malfoy thought he was going to get away with everything he'd done during the war or buy his way into this Wizengamot hearing, it was foolish to appear like he had already handed over the Galleons for his freedom. Even Draco knew better than to leave himself so open to interpretation.

The fact that they were being tried as separate individuals but at the same time was a publicity stunt. A photograph of _all three_ Malfoys being dragged off to Azkaban would look better on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_, even if it meant that protocols and regulations were being overlooked and overturned all for the aggrandizement of the new lighter, heroic governing regime.

He returned his attention to the seats of the Wizengamot, making note of each absence and recounting in his head the last time he'd seen or heard of each missing member. A seat on the end of the bench looked different from the others. While the twenty-eight that preceded it were well worn and aged, this one appeared new. Draco's eyes focused closely on the engraved letters and upon reading them clearly, he rolled his eyes with a dramatic flare and a scoff escaped his throat.

_Potter._

Of course they would give Potter a bloody seat on the Wizengamot. Though the family had not been considered a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Potters were a long line of purebloods dating back further than Draco knew, despite no longer being pure. He could only imagine the sight of the seat being presented to The Boy Who Just Never Knew When to Die. While Draco and his family shared a holding cell waiting for trial, he imagined Harry Potter was being gifted with gold, girls, and the fucking Order of Merlin. Of course they'd give him an ancestral seat on the Wizengamot; he was, after all, the only Potter alive and, therefore, Head of his House. Draco swallowed the bitter pill and returned his angry stare to the Malfoy empty seat, furious at his father for shaming it and leaving it empty in front of them.

It was only the knowledge that Lucius had essentially been sacrificed to the Dark Lord by _his _father the same way Draco had that kept the boy from publicly estranging himself from the man who raised him. Then again, it was the same man who raised him to loathe Muggle-borns. The same man who praised him anytime he wrote home about a nasty thing he'd called Granger, or the one year when he'd accidentally gave her teeth that fell down past her chin. He'd be sent back a basket of sweets for his efforts in letting Mudbloods know their place. It all changed fourth year though he hadn't had the courage to write home to his father about that.

"_Just thought I'd extend a hand of friendship and let you know that a few of my Housemates have seen you in the library with Granger," Draco had said, approaching Viktor Krum as though they were old friends. He spent years masking his emotions as he'd been taught so, despite standing beside the best Seeker in the world made him as gleeful as an eleven-year-old purchasing their first wand, Draco kept a face of calm aloofness. _

_Viktor Krum turned and looked at Draco. "Malfoy, yes?"_

_Draco smirked. Of course the best Seeker in the world knew the Malfoy name. They were practically equals. "You've heard of me?"_

_Krum shrugged his massive shoulders. "You care for my visits with Hermoninny, why?"_

_Slightly taken back, first at the man's mispronunciation of the Mudblood's name — even if it was a ridiculous one to begin with — and then over the actual wording. Visits? He was spending time with the swot on purpose. "You have a reputation and, as a friend, I'm offering you advice to keep it clean. Stay away from filth like her. She's a Mudblood."_

_The great big oaf was suddenly standing and Draco hadn't realised how tall the older boy was until they were almost nose to nose though, with Krum having several more years to him, it was more nose to chest. Instinctively, he glanced to the side wondering where the hell Vince and Greg had wandered off to. He took note of Theo in the corner of the room, but there was no way Nott would put himself in harms way to save Draco's arse. _

_"Do not speak ill of Hermoninny," Viktor said firmly in a tone that left no argument though Draco would have loved to argue the point. "I see beautiful witch, smart witch, powerful witch . . . you see blood." Viktor scoffed. "I prefer seeing witch."_

_Draco had stared openly at the idiot wondering briefly if Granger had slipped him a Love Potion. A week later, when she'd shown up on the Bulgarian's arm at the Yule Ball, his mouth fell open. _

"_Fuck me . . ." Blaise had whispered at the sight of her._

_Draco sneered. "We knew he'd been spending time with her. It's hardly a surprise that she'd be here with him," he said._

_Blaise laughed. "I'm not shocked, I'm actually hoping that if I say, 'fuck me' loud enough she might be kind enough to let me get a leg over." _

"_Charming," Theo said, rolling his eyes._

_Draco hadn't thought much about the girl from that point on other than the typical annoyance her very existence caused, though Krum's words had reminded him of years earlier when he'd first met the Muggle-born and hadn't thought once about her blood status. She'd been easily excitable for certain, but she had been intelligent and easy to talk to. Beautiful though? Draco scoffed at the thought._

_It wasn't until he was placed before the Dark Lord the summer before sixth year and told to practice the Cruciatus Curse on a Muggle that his Aunt Bellatrix had picked up earlier that week. The girl had long, curly brown hair and coffee-coloured eyes. Unlike Granger's, her face was covered in tiny freckles and she was older by several years, but suddenly faced with a crying Muggle who looked so much like his long-time rival and being ordered to torture her . . . Draco had frozen._

_He remembered every slur, every prank, every dirty look and foul thing he'd ever done to the Muggle-born and his stomach lurched at the same time that his wand hand shook. He knew, however, that he couldn't just stand there with the threat of the Dark Lord at his back, his mother in the corner of the room surrounded by Death Eaters that were more loyal to their Master than they were to Lucius Malfoy who was tucked away in Azkaban unable to protect his family._

"_Avada Kedavra!" Draco said, killing the Muggle in front of him instantly._

_He'd been put under the Cruciatus Curse by Bella for his insubordination, but his eagerness to murder Muggles had pleased the Dark Lord and he was branded a Death Eater that night. He'd blacked out in the middle of it only to wake up in his mother's arms as she silently sobbed while running her hands through his sweat-soaked hair, whispering apologies. _

He once thought that nothing in the world could hurt as much as taking the Mark, but the idea that his mother might be sent to Azkaban for crimes that had been forced upon her . . . well, that hurt worse.

"Sorry, sorry," a redheaded man said as he entered the room late, taking a firm place in the chair marked "Weasley" next to the new "Potter" seat. Draco looked as the man entered, but refused to make eye contact as it felt like something was curdling within his stomach. He rubbed his face with his hands trying to wash away the image of a future where Potter and Weasel sat next to one another on the bloody Wizengamot. Draco didn't want to live in a world where idiots made such important decisions.

"Disciplinary hearing on the sixth of June," Kingsley Shacklebolt said in a loud voice, "into offences committed under the order of Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort by Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy nee' Black, and Draco Lucius Malfoy, all residents of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England."

Draco rolled his eyes at the crowd around him as they gasped and flinched at the name of the fallen Dark Lord. He was dead. Officially dead and had been for over a month. How long were they supposed to be afraid of a name? Draco had feared the _person_ if one could call him that. He'd seen him face to face, sat in the same room, lived in the same home, and ate at the same table. A table that would certainly need to be salted and burned later, he reminded himself, should any of his family escape Azkaban.

"Interrogators: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; Gawain Robards, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Hyperion Greengrass, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Chief Warlock; Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley."

Kingsley took his seat and then Hyperion Greengrass, Chief Warlock, stood, blue eyes fell first on Draco. He tried to meet the man's stare but eventually broke, bitterly scolding himself for doing so. He'd met the wizard only once in his life when he was ten and a marriage had been arranged between himself and the youngest Greengrass daughter. A marriage contract that was now, more than likely, voided due to Draco's potential future stint in Azkaban. They were both better for it.

"Lucius Malfoy, you stand accused of plotting and escaping from Azkaban prison, knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of your actions taking upon yourself the title of Death Eater, bearing the Dark Mark upon your skin, following and supporting the Dark Wizard Tom Riddle. You are further accused of the illegal kidnapping and imprisonment of Garrick Ollivander, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger in your own home."

Draco closed his eyes to prevent himself from making eye contact with anyone in the room as even more accusations were read aloud. The need to drown out the words, the reminders of what his father had done in the name of a madman, was overwhelming. He had nightmares about the whole war, but the mere mention of the things that took place inside his own home left his skin feeling cold and clammy.

"Narcissa Malfoy, you stand accused of following and supporting the Dark Wizard Tom Riddle. You are further accused of the imprisonment of Garrick Ollivander, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger in your own home."

Draco shook his head. He knew the truth. His mother had never _willingly _done anything, not how they were stating it. She'd only followed his father, trusting him blindly in the hopes that Lucius Malfoy would put his family first. The only thing she was guilty of was being an obedient wife.

"Draco Malfoy," the Chief Warlock spoke and Draco opened his eyes as the colour drained from his face. "You stand accused of plotting the murder of Albus Dumbledore, the use of the Imperius Curse upon Madam Rosmerta of Hogsmeade, the involuntary cursing of Katie Bell, and the involuntary poisoning of Ronald Weasley. You knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of your actions, took upon the title of Death Eater, bearing the Dark Mark upon your skin, following and supporting the Dark Wizard Tom Riddle. You are accused of crimes during raids of Death Eaters, including the use of the Cruciatus Curse. You stand accused of crimes committed at Hogwarts under the direction of Amycus Carrow. You are further accused of the imprisonment of Garrick Ollivander, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger in your own home."

Draco breathed heavily through his nose as his crimes were listed out before him. He mentally acknowledged them all, though he certainly would have worded it differently. He had, by no means, taken the Dark Mark upon his skin knowingly or deliberately, it wasn't as though he requested such a thing. He wanted to scream, wanted to tell them all the truth about everything, but looking around at the Wizengamot he wondered, who the hell would even believe him?

His concentration was broken as the door opened to the side of the room and two Aurors escorted in four people he never thought he'd see again.

"Witnesses for the defence, Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Granger," Sirius Black spoke as he walked in with Potter, Granger, and Weasley behind him. He parted ways with the younger wizards and witch to take his seat amongst the rest of the Wizengamot. Weasley separated from his friends and made his way to the crowded gallery seats, stopping once to glare at Draco in the process. Granger and Potter stepped to the center of the room to stand before the Wizengamot. Somehow, her hair was blacker than Potter's and it was then that Draco was reminded of the final battle when Severus Snape, his own godfather, claimed that the girl was a pureblood, and not just _any _pureblood . . .

Draco had a hard time thinking about anything other than the words he'd just heard. _Did they say witnesses for the defence?_

Ten minutes later, Potter sat to the side between the Wizengamot and the rest of the crowd, Malfoys included, and every eye was upon him as he was questioned. "And you are certain what you witnessed Mr. Potter?" Greengrass asked clearly.

"Positive," Potter nodded. "Draco Malfoy told Professor Dumbledore that he was ordered to kill him because he and his family were being threatened."

"But he _admitted _to plotting to kill him?"

"He wouldn't have," Potter insisted. "Dumbledore offered to protect the Malfoy family and Draco lowered his wand. He wasn't going to kill him. I know it."

"But his actions lead to the death of Albus Dumbledore. He orchestrated the break-in of Hogwarts, did he not?" Gawain Robards interrupted.

"It wouldn't have mattered," Harry insisted. "I've submitted Pensieve memories as evidence for _this _trial, as well as the exoneration of Severus Snape."

The crowd behind erupted and even members of the Wizengamot turned red in the face and began shouting expletives in protest. Draco paled at the mention of his godfather who he hadn't seen since the final battle.

"And is Master Snape too busy to grace us with his presence?" Robards said sarcastically, still clearly bitter that the Potions Master had turned out to have been a double-agent, thus getting away with any accused crimes.

"No," Potter said, glaring at the man. "He's still recovering at St. Mungo's after he nearly died at the hands of Tom Riddle."

"A quick recess then to look into this new evidence," Greengrass spoke and soon Aurors filled the room, some escorting members of the Wizengamot away, others standing guard over the Malfoys as Potter and Granger were brought alongside the Minister for Magic and out the door. He had to force himself not to watch as Granger's mass of wild black curls bounced as she walked, fighting the urge not to publicly praise Merlin — or more accurately and sickeningly, Potter — that somehow, the witch had miraculously survived a war where she'd been personally targeted just because she existed.

A half an hour passed and Draco was visibly anxious, his leg bouncing and his fingers fidgeting with the chains that bound his hands together. "What memories would Potter have?" he whispered under his breath.

"If I know Severus as well as I think I do," Narcissa said, her voice straining to hold back emotion. "Then one of _your _accused crimes is about to become my own."

"What did you say?" Draco's wide silver gaze turned toward his mother. Lucius, who'd heard her words as well kept his cold stare ahead, glaring at the now empty benches of the Wizengamot.

"Forgive me," Narcissa raised a hand and cupped his cheek with it affectionately. "It was not _your _job to protect _me_," she insisted. "It was _my _job to protect _you_."

"I don't understa —"

The doors to the chambers opened once more and the members of the Wizengamot retook their chairs, but not before the Minister for Magic and the Chief Warlock shook Harry Potter's hand, thanking him for bringing the evidence forward. As the whispers of the crowd died down, Greengrass retook his place among the seats and spoke.

"In light of this new evidence," his eyes turned to Draco, "we amend the records to show that Narcissa Malfoy stands accused for aiding in the plot to murder Albus Dumbledore." Draco took a sharp breath. "That being said, we find neither Narcissa Malfoy nor her son guilty of the actual murder of Albus Dumbledore, but the accusations will remain on the records for posterity sake. Now, let's continue," he said and gestured to Gawain Robards who looked back to Potter.

Draco sat in silence as the prosecution team continued to question The Boy Who Lived. He'd plotted the murder of his former Headmaster, certainly and, although it was Snape who'd thrown the Killing Curse, Draco had still blamed himself for it. Yet whatever memories that Potter handed over as evidence had somehow implicated his mother as well, and somehow neither he nor she was found guilty of the actual crime. Draco couldn't make sense of anything that had happened so far in the trial. His attention was pulled back into the dungeon when he heard the words "Malfoy Manor" echo throughout the Chamber.

"And had you met the elder Malfoys before, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, over the years," Potter nodded.

"And how is it that they did not recognise you?"

"Hermione sent a Stinging Hex at me just before we were captured. It disfigured me a bit," Potter answered.

Draco had to hold back a snort. _A bit?_

"But certainly Draco Malfoy would have known it was you?" Robards insisted. "The two of you attended school together for six years, and there is substantial proof that many altercations occurred between the two of you over the years."

"Yes, which I imagine was why they insisted that _he _identify me. But he didn't." Bright green eyes met Draco's silver ones and Potter almost seemed to smirk at him. Draco scowled in response merely out of habit, but then shook the look away and responded by raising a confused brow at the black-haired boy.

"He didn't recognise you?" Robards asked.

"Oh, he _did_." Potter nodded enthusiastically. "Even if I didn't look like myself, Malfoy . . . er . . . Draco," Potter corrected and Draco made a face at him for using his given name. "He didn't firmly say he recognised any of us. He lied."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he knew what would happen. Bellatrix Lestrange would call Voldemort to collect us, and then kill us. Voldemort wanted to kill me himself, but Ron and Hermione wouldn't have been spared. Ron was a blood-traitor and Hermione was a Muggle-born," Potter said, casting a look to the witch in question who stiffened at the words. "We'd all have been killed if it weren't for Malfoy."

_I didn't do it for you,_ the rebellious words floated across his mind as he stared at the head of black hair. He distinctly heard a loud grumbling snort come from behind him. It had to be the Weasel, especially considering how Granger's focus turned toward the noise and gave a scalding glare in its direction.

"And did either of the elder Malfoys attempt to divert the attentions of Bellatrix Lestrange? As you've said, she appeared in charge of the situation," Greengrass commented, his eyes glancing to Lucius who seemed to sneer in response.

"No," Potter said clearly though he appeared conflicted. "No, they were adamant about finding out if it was really me though Mr. Malfoy especially wanted to be the one to hand me over." Potter glared at Lucius. "Though Mrs. Malfoy was no less insistent. She did, however, save my life," he added quickly. "And I would like the Wizengamot to take this into consideration. In the Forbidden Forest, when Voldemort asked if I was dead, it was Narcissa Malfoy who lied to him, stared at Voldemort and said I was when I wasn't. If it wasn't for her," Potter paused. "I would not have made it out of the forest. I would not have defeated Voldemort."

Once again, the crowd erupted into whispers and murmurs, this time for so long that the Chief Warlock had to use a Sonorus Charm to get the attention of everyone in the room. Draco turned to briefly gauge his parents reactions to the declaration from the Chosen One, but neither gave away anything. Unfortunately, he had to turn his attention back to the Wizengamot as Potter was dismissed and taking his place was a girl he could scarcely look in the eye, which didn't seem to be a problem for her as she was resolutely determined not to glance his way.

"Miss Granger, I know this is a sensitive subject," Robards spoke softly as though Granger was a delicate flower, and Draco rolled his eyes. He'd seen the woman in action and knew that if the former Auror made one wrong move, he'd be hexed on his back faster than a Firebolt flew. "But is it true that you were tortured within the Malfoy's home?"

The words triggered stress-induced nausea, something Draco had come to terms with as a Death Eater job hazard over the past two years, and he looked away from the witch to avoid making it worse. Looking at her always made everything worse.

"Yes," she said. "Though I strongly doubt I'm the only person to have been so. Bellatrix Lestrange hit me with the Cruciatus Curse," she said, pointedly leaving out the fact that Draco's crazy aunt also carved her arm up. "And she also attacked me at the final battle."

"With all due respect," Robards said, trying to gently guide her back to his question, "We're not trying Bellatrix Lestrange. She's dead. We're here to discuss the Malfoys."

"I _am _discussing the Malfoys," she said, her eyes narrowing at the man. "Harry's right. Draco didn't identify us when we were at the manor. And when it came down to it at the final battle, Draco gave Harry the wand that defeated the Dark Lord. He also . . ." She paused. "He also saved me. When Bellatrix came after me again, Draco took the curse she had aimed at me."

For some reason he felt shame at her words despite the truth of them and he looked away from her, doing his best to drown out the sound of her voice as it reminded him of the sound of her screams echoing in his drawing room. Somehow, it worked and soon he watched as the witch retreated to a seat beside Potter.

"I now ask the Wizengamot," shouted Hyperion Greengrass, "to raise their hands if they believe that the crimes of Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, deserve a sentence in Azkaban?"

Draco was pleasantly shocked when not a single hand was raised. He smiled genuinely as he felt his mother's hand clench tightly around his own and saw a small whimper escape her lips, though she was quick to silence herself as she turned her expression once again to stone.

"Very well." Greengrass looked to the Minister who nodded as though giving permission to continue. "We find Narcissa Malfoy nee Black guilty of plotting the murder of Albus Dumbledore, and guilty of the imprisonment of hostages within Malfoy Manor. She is sentenced to one year of house arrest, during which her wand will be confiscated, to be returned upon completion of her sentence."

Two Aurors approached the Malfoy family to unchain Narcissa, and Draco frowned as his mother desperately clung to his hands, not bothering to give his father a passing glance as she tried to stay beside her son despite being pulled away to more than likely have her wand removed from her and a tracking charm placed upon her person before she'd be delivered back to the manor.

"I now ask the jury," shouted Hyperion Greengrass, "to raise their hands if they believe that the crimes of Draco Lucius Malfoy, deserves a sentence in Azkaban?"

Draco let out an audible sigh of relief when it appeared only two hands raised, by people he'd never even seen before in his life sitting in seats far in the back giving scowls forward at him and his father who remained sitting side by side. He thought to take note of their names when they stood to remember this moment, but instead he reveled in the fact that somehow despite everything he'd done, he was not going to go to Azkaban for it.

"We find Draco Lucius Malfoy guilty of plotting the murder of Albus Dumbledore, guilty for the use of the Imperius Curse, and the involuntary attacks on Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley." Greengrass gave a long pause. "However, given your age and under the circumstances of your bearing the Dark Mark, that you — like many — are a victim of war. You are found innocent of all other crimes related to being a Death Eater," he announced clearly.

The crowd behind broke into outrage and Draco visibly recoiled, not wanting to break eye contact with the Chief Warlock, but concerned for his own well-being considering a large group of angry wizards shouted at his back. Who knew how many of them were willing to curse him over the pronouncement of his innocence?

"You are hereby sentenced to six months probationary magic where your wand will be examined on a monthly basis to look for signs of Dark Magic. You are required by the Wizengamot to make restitutions to the Wizarding community, including financing the rebuilding of Hogwarts."

Draco gave a quick nod of acceptance. Though he had planned to originally do so anonymously if given the chance, Draco was already more than willing to make a large donation to the school that had taught him everything he loved about magic. While he'd often complained about it, wishing he could have gone to Durmstrang instead, the past few years had taught him that Hogwarts should have been his place of sanctuary against the darkness that had been spreading in his home.

Before he could hear what would happen to his father, Draco was unchained from his seat and led out the doors of the dungeon where his mother was waiting for him in the hall. Quickly she fell into his embrace and sobbed into his shoulder.

"What's happened? What's to be done with you?" she begged him.

"Nothing." Draco shook his head. "Umm . . . six months probation, and I have to rebuild the school," the words tumbled out of his mouth as he was still trying to process his sentencing properly as well. His mother responded by crying harder and holding him tighter and he could only smile nervously, stroking his hand down the length of her hair to comfort her.

It was less than twenty minutes later when an Auror came out into the hallway and whispered to the guards.

"What's happened?" Draco asked.

"You're needed back inside," the Auror said and held the door open for him.

Draco paled at the thought that he might be called to be a witness in his own father's trial, but by the looked of the Wizengamot, they'd made their decision regarding Lucius. Most of the Wizengamot members looked annoyed but smug, no one more so than Sirius Black who was glaring at Lucius. The crowd, on the other hand, looked displeased.

"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy, please step forward," the Minister for Magic spoke with a smile. Draco hesitated for a brief moment before doing do, casting a glance at his father who looked positively enraged.

"Lucius Malfoy, after being found guilty of all crimes, the Wizengamot sentences you to three years of house arrest. Due to the nature of your heinous crimes against the Wizarding world, as well as the endangerment of your own family, you are hereby stripped of wand privileges," Greengrass threw out the sentence.

Draco's eyes widened and his father seethed. It was a severely light sentence all things considered, and he figured that enough votes had been purchased to keep his father out of Azkaban, but not enough to bring down another, almost equally emasculating sentence. Draco knew that his father had lost his wand to the Dark Lord, but had ultimately planned on replacing it as had the rest of the Malfoy family — now it appeared that Lucius was forbidden from doing so.

"Because you used your influence and name to further the power of the Dark Wizard, Tom Riddle," Greengrass continued. "You are hereby stripped of that influence _and _name. Your Wizengamot seat, financial holdings, investments, properties, positions and titles are officially removed from your person, name and magic, and will be passed immediately to your son, Draco Lucius Malfoy."

Gasps were heard all around the room and immediately Draco lacked the ability to look at his father. Instead, his eyes met those of Hyperion Greengrass who smiled deviously at him, followed by those of Kingsley Shacklebolt who stood and extended his arm to Draco.

"Do you accept this, Draco?" Kingsley asked.

"I . . ." Draco's mouth fell open.

"You must accept it through a binding and take a Wizard's Oath," the Minister explained.

Draco couldn't speak, but merely nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Mr. Potter?" the Chief Warlock called out. "If you're still willing, as we had addressed earlier . . ."

Potter stood in the crowd, receiving what appeared to be a look of acceptance from Granger and a look of begrudging from Weasley before he made his way forward, approaching Draco and the two elder wizards.

"I don't understand," Draco muttered quietly as Potter approached, his instincts still telling him that the boy was an enemy and he needed to be on his toes, suspicious of any movement. Like a serpent, Draco kept his eyes on Harry Potter, as though waiting for him to strike.

"To take a Wizard's Oath, one needs a wand," Kingsley explained.

Draco's heart leapt into his throat as Harry Potter pulled a wand from his robes. _His _wand. The young Malfoy's hand shook as he quickly moved to take it, drawn to the object with great longing. Just before his fingertips could wrap around the handle, he paused and looked up as though waiting for permission.

"It's yours Malfoy," Potter insisted, handing over the ten inch Hawthorn wand with a core of unicorn hair. The moment the small piece of wood connected with his hand, Draco let out a slow breath as he felt the magic course back through him, calling out to him as though the wand was reconnecting with its master, enjoying the feeling of wholeness again. Unable to utter a word of thanks, Draco merely nodded his silent gratitude, his gaze looking briefly over Potter's shoulder where he made eye contact with Granger; she smiled and Draco felt a strange calm come over him.

"That's the wand that defeated Voldemort," Potter quickly pointed out and Draco's eyes widened. He'd almost forgotten. "Do us all a favour, Malfoy, and keep up its trend of good magic."

Unable to look at the black-haired boy a moment longer as Draco's pride threatened to fall, the blonde gave him a curt nod before turning his attention back to the Minister for Magic who held out his wand hand. Draco took it, and the two held one another's forearms, nothing between them save their wands. Greengrass pointed his wand above them and as he spoke, two long silver strands of light erupted from the tip, wrapping themselves around Draco's and the Minister's hands.

"Do you Draco Lucius Malfoy, accept the responsibilities as the new Head of your House? Do you willingly take upon yourself the positions, titles, properties, and all powers attached to the Head of the Malfoy House?"

"I will," Draco almost whispered the words.

"This is outrageous! He is a boy and is not ready!" Lucius bellowed behind them.

"Restrain him if necessary before placing the Tracking Charm on him," Greengrass insisted as two Aurors quickly moved to secure Lucius.

Draco watched as the silver strands around him and Kingsley pulsed, swelling with magic before vanishing and he reflexively removed his wand, placing it securely in his robes, hoping to never lose it again.

The Wizengamot was dismissed and Draco was led back toward his mother where he sat, guarded by Aurors as the crowd was directed out toward the Atrium. When Sirius Black stepped through the doors, standing aside as Potter and Weasley moved on either side of Granger, leading her quickly away, Draco stood to see where they were going only to be met with Aurors acting as though he were going to duel the people who'd just saved his life — again.

"Cissa," Sirius said, pushing past the Aurors and hugging the witch who struggled not to burst into tears. "Everything's going to be fixed now that this is over. I've got a fucking long list of shite I need to fix before the Black Estate is properly settled, but once I'm done, I'm making sure that you're all right." He turned and looked at Draco. "The Wizengamot feels that you should return to Hogwarts when it reopens this fall to retake your seventh year. It'll give room between yourself and Lucius to allow you to run your House without his influence. There will be plenty of people available if you need help," he said.

Draco nodded, disliking everything that had been said, with the exception of not living in the Manor for another year. Still, going back to Hogwarts hadn't been in his plans.

"Sirius," Narcissa whispered. "We . . . we have to talk. Something . . . is the girl . . ."

"I'm not talking about that," Sirius said, his expression darkening.

"I mean her no harm," Narcissa insisted.

"No?" Sirius glared. "You left _that _to Bellatrix, didn't you?" he said and then immediately turned and walked away.

"Sirius!" Narcissa called after him. "Sirius, you don't know everything about Regulus!"

Without looking back, he shouted, "No one does!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: When I posted Chapter 9 yesterday, did I say it was an early chapter or an extra chapter? Oh well, here's 10. LOL. Ended up with some interesting conversation in the reviews yesterday. It seems we have a lot of split opinions. People love Sirius, people hate Sirius. I don't write Sirius to be a giant ass. In the past he's a teenager, a lovable idiot. He's the Weasley twins. As an adult he's broken and immature because he skipped quite a few moments of growing into adulthood thanks to Azkaban. His life right now is Hermione and Harry and pretty much fuck everything else. Had a few people take issue with the Sacred Twenty-Eight thing. Please remember, that stuff is actually canon. Also canon? The Wizarding world being SUPER behind the times. Even though the war is over, the government is still corrupted (because it's government). Some people are also torn about the Malfoy families punishment. I did this for a reason. I like to switch things up. In one fic I killed Lucius, in another I sent him to Azkaban. This one I took his wand away. I'll likely let him go free in another, if only to shake things up a bit. Also, for those who think that Severus knows all of Regulus's secrets? No Slytherin would tell even their best friend everything about them. ;)

Q&amp;As - **Chester99**, Hermione doesn't have a guardian because she's of age. Had she discovered her true identity before she turned 17, it likely would have been Snape. **Nabile**, Sirius is the Head of House Black because he's the current living male heir and the Wizarding world is a decidedly patriarchal society. **Guest**, totally agree about the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the population issue, but the Sacred Twenty-Eight aren't the only purebloods. We've also got Browns, Zabinis, Goyles, Crabbes, Puceys. The S28 were basically at one point (generations ago) the elite who have since fallen out with one another.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Ten

_Anima_

* * *

**1978**

"_Locomotor Mortis_!" Sirius yelled and Regulus's legs snapped together. As if that wasn't bad enough, Sirius laughed as he called out, "_Colloshoo_!" and Regulus's shoes stuck to the ground. The sudden displacement of his center of gravity had the young Black heir tipping forward and crashing face first into the ground with a thud.

"Fucking blood-traitor!" Regulus screamed, words slightly muffled by the cold stone floor.

"That'll be ten points from Slytherin for swearing," Potter said with a laugh and Pettigrew giggled maniacally behind the pair as Regulus struggled to get up.

It had been over a year since Sirius had been blasted off the family tree and Regulus played his part as the hateful blood purist. Forced to provoke his own brother into duels every now and again to prove that he loathed Sirius — just to make sure no one else took the pleasure for themselves — often left Regulus bruised and bleeding. While the younger wizard was better at Transfiguration, Charms, and — forcibly — talented at using Unforgivables, Sirius was always the better dueler.

"Maybe we should turn his hair red and gold," Sirius was grinning at the thought. "Send him back to the dungeons sporting _our _colours."

Potter chuckled. "Do it."

Regulus sighed and tried to look like he was putting up a fight while internally wishing that he had been sorted into Gryffindor. Despite being the victim of their pranks, he couldn't fault the other wizards for enjoying their youth. While _they _played — _generally _harmless — jokes on their fellow students because it was funny, Regulus and Severus had already been sent out on three separate revels.

While Sirius was throwing Shrinking Spells at the skirts of the Ravenclaw witches, Regulus was forced to torture Muggles under the watchful eye of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters who stood above him. Mentors, they were called, but everyone knew they were guards to make sure you did the job you were assigned. While Potter was jinxing the grass beneath the Pitch to always appear red and gold during games, Severus was forced to murder blood-traitors and Muggle-borns.

He wondered what the brave Gryffindors would say if they knew what their school rivals got up to during the hols.

"Back off, Black!" Severus said as he came around the corner, wand flicking toward Regulus, releasing his shoes from the ground allowing him to twist his body so he was finally looking up.

"Snivellus!" Sirius and Potter grinned at his appearance. "Long time no hex."

Regulus growled at his intruding friend. "I'm fine!"

"Quiet, Reggie," Sirius said with a smirk. "The grown wizards are talking. Care for an official duel Snivellus?" he asked, grinning wildly. "Wizard's honour that we'll play by the rules."

Severus sneered at the boys. "As though any of you have honour."

Potter clutched at his chest. "Ouch."

"Well, that was rude." Sirius pouted. "I don't think we're ready to be best friends yet, Snivelly."

Severus's body tensed up and Regulus could see the rage building up in his best friend. While Regulus always had Marlene to lean on after being forced to don his Death Eater mask, letting her wand heal his wounds and her love heal his soul, Severus was alone. That meant that he bottled up everything he felt inside himself only to unleash it upon unsuspecting victims, usually the ones he was ordered to kill which. But it had been far too long since his last release and too much was bottled up; Regulus could see that the other Slytherin was ready to burst.

Severus's wand was raised and he began to say, "_Sectum_ —"

_Oh, fuck that,_ Regulus thought and flicked his wand at his friend. "_Langlock_!"

Cut off mid-curse, Severus turned and glared at Regulus with bitter, hateful eyes.

"What on earth is going on here?!" came the shrieking voice of Evans, wearing her Head Girl badge with the same air of authority that McGonagall wore her robes. She stormed down the hallway and glared at Sirius and Potter. Regulus noted Lupin standing nearby, shaking his head in disappointment at his friends. "James! You're Head Boy! You're supposed to be better than this!"

"I told you that badge would go to his head," Marlene said as she appeared walking up from behind Lupin, ignoring Regulus completely as she glared at her Housemates.

Sirius grinned at her. "Hey, McKinnon. I've found you a pet snake," he said, gesturing to Regulus. "I seem to remember you used to like playing with them."

Regulus growled, but Marlene laughed and rolled her eyes. "You wish, Sirius," she said and then looked down at Regulus. "And he _really _wishes."

Sirius frowned. "Aww, poor Reg. Never gets the girl."

Regulus smirked up at his big brother. "What makes you think I've never had her?" he asked, gesturing to Marlene who blushed red, her mouth falling open in feigned anger. "For all you know, I've had her repeatedly and she _loved _it." He sneered, watching as all humour left Sirius and Potter's eyes. Evans was practically glowing with rage. "In fact, I think I have had her plenty and she was delicious . . . weren't you McKinnon?"

Marlene scowled at him, lightly tugging on the string of pearls around her neck. "You're disgusting."

"And you're just upset that I got tired of fucking blood-traitors."

oOoOoOo

Two hours later Marlene sat on the edge of Regulus's bed in the dungeons, a stolen magical map sitting open on the mattress to make sure no one knew she was there. How Sirius and his friends ever found such a treasure, Regulus would never know, but they didn't exactly keep the thing locked up tight. He was tempted to keep it for himself, but Marlene refused. "Hold still," she said as she dabbed his split bottom lip with a towel. "Was it really necessary to go _that _far?"

Regulus hissed at the stinging pain from the cut. "Did I _actually _offend you?" he mumbled.

Marlene rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Yes, my poor damaged ego, how ever will I cope?" she said sarcastically. "You were _trying _to get Sirius to hit you, weren't you?" she asked curiously, raising a brow at him in that dangerous way that said he'd better not lie to her or else. He'd yet to find out exactly what "or else" entailed.

"A fifth year caught you slipping out of the dungeons last week," he told her. "I had to make it look like I was using you. It helps that Sirius has a hot temper when it comes to defending poor maidens like yourself and I know exactly how to push his buttons to make him snap," he said and laughed when she slapped his arm. "I'll look like a hero to my House and the other Death Eaters, my loyalties aren't called into question regarding you or my fist-wielding brother. The rest of the school thinks Sirius is honourable wizard defending women from the lecherous likes of Slytherins, you're just a pretty witch caught up in a mess of Black family drama. Everyone else will think I'm just an arsehole."

She stopped cleaning the cut on his lip and leaned forward to gently kiss him. "Don't you get tired of playing the bad guy?" she whispered.

Regulus frowned. "_I'm_ not the bad guy," he said softly. "I'm doing what I can to keep the real bad guy from you."

She pressed her forehead against his and sighed. "After Hogwarts, can we run away?" she asked.

He smiled. "I would love nothing better than to run away with you." Regulus leaned forward and pressed his lips against her mouth, parting her lips with his tongue and tasting her. She whimpered and then moaned when his hand tickled its way up the inside of her thigh beneath her skirt.

She broke their kiss, giggling as he buried his face in her hair, nibbling on her earlobe as his fingers trailed along the edge of her knickers. "I thought you've grown tired of fucking blood-traitors?" she teased.

Regulus pushed her back against the mattress and situated himself between her thighs, bending forward to nip at her throat as he slipped a finger into her velvet heat. "I'll never tire of you," he said, watching with great interest as her back arched and she gasped for breath. He'd never tire of that look on her face as he touched her with his hands. That expression only paled in comparison to the one she wore when he was inside of her.

Their first time, of course, had been an absolute disaster.

She'd been ridiculously shy when she had undressed herself, insisting that he not look at her while she did it. Regulus sneaked a peek every now and then, but had been so paranoid about getting caught that he was glad he didn't need to fumble with the buttons of her blouse or the godsforsaken bra hooks, since his hands were shaking with nervous anticipation.

Instead of heated banter that they shared now — whispers of dirty words in the dark of the dungeons — they were comically inept in their first attempts at poetic sweet nothings, spoken in the heat of the moment.

"_Is it going to hurt?"_

_"What? How the hell should I know? I've never done this before!"_

_"Well, neither have I! And don't yell at me!"_

"_I'm not yelling just . . . fuck . . . just lay still."_

"_Did you remember the Contraceptive Charm?"_

_"What?! You're not on the potion?!"_

"_Of course I'm not on the potion! Why would I need to be on the potion?!"_

"_Because we're having sex!"_

_"Not yet and with that attitude . . . "_

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't leave. I know the charm, I swear."_

"_Is it supposed to tingle like that?"_

_"I think so. That means it's working . . . maybe."_

"_Maybe?"_

" _. . . "_

" _. . . "_

"_What's wrong, Marley?"_

"_It's just . . . you're naked."_

"_Well, I'm not an expert but that's generally how this works. I've read about it in books. They had diagrams."_

_"Prat. I just mean . . . oh, that feels good . . . you look . . . you look nice."_

_"You look sexy as hell."_

_"Poet. Is . . . is it in yet?"_

" _. . . "_

"_Reggie?"_

"_What do you mean is it in yet?! No, it's not in yet! You'll bloody know when it's in, I guarantee that!"_

"_Apologies to your poor ego."_

"_You don't have to be sarcastic about . . . oh fuck, oh that feels . . . Marley, are you okay?"_

_"I'm . . . I'm fine . . . Reggie, you can move. I'm okay. I love you."_

_"I love you."_

Regulus pulled her knickers down her legs and threw them to the side of his bed where they landed in a small basket alongside a Quidditch magazine and some sweet wrappers. "I _better _get those back," Marlene whispered, threading her fingers through his hair as he brought his lips between her breasts, kissing the soft skin there. "You better not be collecting them like Sirius does."

Regulus chuckled and licked at her right nipple to distract her while he reached for the buckle of his trousers. "If I was keeping a collection, mine would be much less disgusting. I only have the one witch," he said, a smirk toying at the corner of his mouth.

"Prat," she giggled and then moaned when she could feel him, hard and hot against her center, rubbing up and down as he lined himself up and leaned forward to kiss the breath out of her as he pushed inside, slowly letting her envelope him, grinning when she gasped against his lips like she did every single time. When she came minutes later with his name on her lips like a prayer, he committed the sound to memory; something to hold tight to when he would be summoned again by the Dark Lord.

oOoOoOo

It was at the beginning of August on a strangely cold night when Severus Snape Apparated into the backyard of the McKinnon summer home. Marlene was insistent that she stay there to study ahead for her N.E.W.T.s even though her parents and older brother were eager for a trip to Greece. In reality, being alone with Regulus had been something she didn't want to pass up.

But this was _not _what she expected.

"Snape?" she called out into the darkness when she recognised a familiar head of black hair. "Snape where's . . . oh, Godric . . ." She rushed out the door and fell to the ground beside Regulus who was being held upward only by the fistful of robes that were clamped in Severus's hands. "What happened?!"

"He was punished," Severus said, releasing Regulus's robes which caused the boy to hit the ground none too gently. "There was a revel tonight. Only instead of Muggles, the Dark Lord had us going after . . . members of a certain society." Marlene looked away from him and Severus sneered at her. "Which you clearly already knew about. I assume you plan on joining the Order as well, once you've graduated?"

"I want to help," she whispered, running her wand over Regulus's body, casting Diagnostic Spells.

Severus snarled at her. "If you want to help, you'll stay hidden so _he _doesn't end up dead trying to save you! The Dark Lord wants the Order gone! Dumbledore's creating an army to fight him, and he's a fool to even try! They'll all be dead within a few years at this rate."

Marlene glared at him. "Are you going to kill Lily yourself?"

Severus looked like he was about to be sick. "She . . . Potter will take care of her now," he said though the words were filled with doubt. "Something he'll be well prepared for now . . . now that he knows . . ."

"Knows what?" she asked.

Regulus coughed and struggled to sit up, tearing at his robes. "Get these . . . get 'em off!" he screamed. "I don't want them!"

"Oh, Merlin, he's burning up," Marlene said and stood, flicking her wand at Regulus to Bind him so he'd stop struggling, levitating him into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom. With Severus behind her, she began stripping Regulus's clothes, lowering him into the bathtub which she filled with cold water. "What happened to him?" she asked again.

"Potter's parents are dead," Severus said quietly. "We . . . we didn't know who . . . but Regulus, being the idiot that he is, _openly _refused to participate. You don't say no to the Dark Lord without being made an example. The others were set on him like a pack of wolves. Mostly Cruciatus, but . . . there were some Slicing Hexes as well."

She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes to remove the tears and she released the Body Bind on Regulus, allowing his body to relax against the water, hopefully removing the fever that had swept through him. "Reggie? Baby?"

Regulus slowly opened his eyes, blinking away his blurry vision. He glanced down, noticing his undressed state and he turned, his head lolling to the side as he stared up at the beautiful witch. "I know you like me out of my clothes, darling, but I really don't think I'm up for a shag just yet . . . give me ten minutes, maybe fifteen."

Marlene laughed and kissed his forehead, pulling him against her chest. Severus rolled his eyes. "Fix him up," he said. "But don't heal the scars. The Dark Lord will want proof that he was punished."

"Where are _you _going?" Marlene turned as Severus stepped out of the room.

"To receive my own punishment. I was only allowed to leave because _he _was bleeding everywhere. Carpets really are quite difficult to clean," he said bitterly, clearly repeating the words of another. "Hopefully they'll know the limits this time," he said and then left her sight.

"I'll be fine, love," Regulus insisted, shivering slightly as the cold water started feeling less and less comforting the lower his temperature became. Marlene kissed his forehead, cast another Diagnostic Spell, and then drained the water from the tub. "Marley . . ." he said and reached out for her hand. She pulled it away instantly, choking on a sob that tried to escape her throat. "Marley . . ."

"Don't!" she turned and yelled at him. "Reg . . . you were tortured tonight! People died at the hands of . . . of Death Eaters —"

"Like me."

She shook her head. "No. _Real _Death Eaters who think that you're one of them and —"

"I am one of them. Just because I don't agree doesn't mean I don't partici —"

"They tortured you and killed other people!" she sobbed. "Good people. James could be a prat sometimes, but his parents . . . gods . . . this is . . . this is —"

"War."

"We're kids! We're too young and I don't want you to die! I don't _want _you to go to war," she said, her voice breaking.

He sat up and wrapped shaking arms around her, small twitches remaining from the Cruciatus Curse. Regulus barely got a jostle from Bellatrix's wand and he dreaded to think of the recovery needed should the witch eventually snap and let her full power filter through the curse. "Love," he whispered. "I'm not going to die, and war was inevitable. You're my Helen, remember? The woman men gladly went to war for. Wasn't there some doting prince that whisked her away?"

Marlene rolled her eyes. "Paris, and he _died _in the war," she said sadly.

Regulus sighed loudly. "Pity. She devoted her life afterward to him though? Ever faithful and pure to the end?" he asked teasingly. He knew the stories, of course. Being named after the stars that held origins in ancient Greek and Roman mythology meant that long before he learned how to levitate feathers at Hogwarts, he knew the position of every star in the sky, their origin, and the variations of each and every story.

"No, she returned to Sparta with her husband, King Menelaus," Marlene whispered the words as Regulus stroked his fingers through her blond curls, twirling one around his finger.

Regulus smirked. "Ah, a king," he said. "That's much better than a prince, wouldn't you say?"

She scowled at her wizard. "When he took Helen back to Sparta, he threatened to kill her for leaving him but she was too beautiful so he lowered the sword," she said, a tone of indignation and righteousness that generally had a way of either annoying or endearing her to him.

"You won't leave me though," Regulus said, brushing a lock of hair from her face and kissing her gently. "Will you? You'll stay my queen forever."

Marlene snorted. "You're hardly a king . . . or a prince," she added before he had a chance to argue. "But yes," she said quietly. "I'll be with you until we're torn apart, which, as this is a war, is a very likely scenario."

Regulus ignored the theatrical way she liked to exaggerate and kissed her again. "There is nothing in the world I love as much as you." When she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest he sighed. "And . . . should we be torn apart, as you so delicately put it, we'll meet one another on some Fortunate Isle in the afterlife. Deal?"

oOoOoOo

_August 20th, 1978_

_In the morning, I awoke in the arms of my Helen. The McKinnon summer home is beautiful and wonderful and filled with light. It's everything that Grimmauld Place isn't, and I'd like to throw up a Fidelius Charm, make the Secret-Keeper an elusive and immortal stray cat, trap Marlene inside of the home and never leave it again. Her bed — _our _bed until we return to Hogwarts — sits beneath a large circular window that faces the sunrise. When I wake in the morning, I watch the sun crest over the horizon, its rays reflecting against her skin. Her hair is the colour of honey and makes me think to write ridiculously sappy poetry that, if she read it, she would tease me mercilessly for. _

_Has any man ever loved a woman more?_

_I hate myself for tainting her soul by looking at her, speaking to her, touching her. She's absolute perfection and purity when I watch the sunlight kiss across her sleeping face. Then she wakes, opens those beautiful blue eyes and curses my very existence for not greeting her with coffee. She sits up and turns her head to check the time so quickly that those honey-coloured curls fling into my face. It's an absolute safety hazard. I despise being woken in the middle of the night with a mouthful of that hair._

_But when the day or night has been bad . . . and it can be so very bad. There's nothing in the world more peaceful than burying my face and fingers in those locks. _

_Today was a bad day. Hell, this year was a bad year. But today was a particularly new brand of fucking awful. Unknown to Severus and I, Sirius and his band of mourning misfits were at the Leaky. Stray charms and jinxes that used to happen at Hogwarts turned to Slicing Hexes and particularly cruel — but not Unforgivable — curses when we walked into the establishment looking for lunch and found Potter grieving the deaths of his parents. Deaths we were still suffering for because we chose not to participate. We didn't stop them either, and sometimes I think I'm damned for the lives I ignored more so than the ones I've been forced to take._

_I stupidly approached them, glad that Lupin was in his right mind and received me with a pleasant welcome, insisting that we were adults now, all of age and everyone but myself out of Hogwarts. For a split second, I thought that perhaps I could just be done with the fake personality I've been forced into these past few years. Maybe I could reach out to my brother, the Order, ask for help. Gods, it would destroy my pride entirely, but I don't think I can watch Marlene heal my wounds if I ever have the nerve to take another stand. What if next time I'm not punished for my own transgressions. What if he punishes someone else and makes me watch? _

_I offered condolences to Potter and, though he didn't say a word, even Severus nodded in the man's general direction, likely trying to ignore the questions as to whether or not he had cried himself to sleep in Evans's arms when his parents were reported deceased. It took encouragement from Lupin, but Sirius shook my hand and . . . fuck, if I didn't almost cry. He'd be a liar if he said he wasn't tempted to as well. I saw his eyes go a bit glassy. He misses me too. Missed me. Past tense. As a show of camaraderie, I took Potter and Lupin's hands — not in friendship; truce? — and everything seemed like it could go well for once. Then . . . that _fucking _idiot Pettigrew stood up, wiped his greasy hands on his jumper, and smiled at me like old mates, extended his hand and slipped, gripping the sleeve of my robe in the process, tearing it open and revealing my Dark Mark._

_Fuck._

_There's nothing to be done about it now. I have no brother. I had one once, but I'm fairly positive I've broken his heart. I'm now the beast, the villain, the monster that stole _his _brother away from him and he's likely to take vengeance upon me if given the chance. Can't blame him. He's reacting to a piece of the puzzle without knowing everything. I wonder if we — Death Eaters — are doing the same. Lucius very likely is. Kept in his gilded cage and raised in the image of his father. Bellatrix just enjoys the chaos. She'd likely fight for whichever side allowed her to do the most damage. It doesn't matter though. Death Eaters, Order members, we're all killers and manipulators and going to die at the end of all of this. There's no hope here. All this and I still have to go back to Hogwarts, sit in classes and pretend like I'm not a soldier on the wrong side of a war._

_So I'll bury my sins and my secrets in these diaries and bury my nose and my fingers in Marlene's hair and pray that one day I never come out of it. Which is likely because I'm fairly certain that unruly mane will one day choke me in my sleep._

_What a way to go._

* * *

**A/N**: Before everyone gets all up in arms about the characters, remember that both sides are screwing up a lot here. It is okay to love BOTH Sirius and Regulus (I've had some reviewers think that I'm trying to set up one against the other when that's certainly not the case). No one is an actual hero in this story (well, maybe Harry but even he's pretty much skating by on luck at this point). This is a story about broken humans. Both sides are prejudiced and are working with their own set of good intentions, each paving separate ways to hell.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I'll be going on vacation in a week for a week but I will set up chapters to still be posted. Fingers crossed that nothing actually goes wrong with the uploads because it'll be unlikely that I'll be able to fix any problems at my parents house. I'm pretty sure they're still using AOL dialup LOL.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Eleven

_Desponsa_

* * *

**September 1998**

With the help of a united Wizarding community, the damage that Hogwarts suffered during the battle was repaired over the summer. Though Sirius tried to get Harry and Hermione to rest and enjoy the end of war, they both decided they couldn't sit back and allow Hogwarts — their second home — to be reconstructed without their own hands and wands there to assist.

When September first rolled around, Sirius pouted as he put Harry and Hermione on the Hogwarts Express, but he was proud that they'd both decided to finish their education. While he was a bit put out at being left alone at Grimmauld Place, he made them promise to write at least three times a week. He'd even bought two new owls for the express purpose, as Hermione had jokingly made him promise to not use Buckbeak as a messenger bird. A small tawny owl for Harry — though no one could ever replace Hedwig — that Harry named Eulen, and a black and grey barn owl for Hermione — to match her new look — that she affectionately named Leo, because the feathers around his neck looked like a lion's mane.

The ride to Hogwarts was relatively quiet, especially since the Trio — along with Neville, Ginny, and Luna — had thrown up Locking and Silencing Charms around their compartment to help ward off fans and potential enemies alike. When they finally arrived in Hogsmeade, there was a loud collective gasp as all the returning second through seventh (and technically eighth) years took in the sight of the herd of thestrals, waiting to take them all to the castle.

"Is it just me or does it feel weird being here?" Ron asked as they all sat down at the Gryffindor table, looking around the Great Hall as though a battle hadn't taken place there only a few months earlier.

Harry's eyes occasionally glanced toward an area of the room that everyone knew to be the place where he'd destroyed the Dark Lord. An expression on his face that said he was shocked, but pleased, that there wasn't anything there to mark it; no blemish in the marble floor or eerie feeling when someone walked over the spot.

"Because we've spent the last year on the run, hiding in the woods and at Grimmauld Place trying to take down a Dark Wizard?" Harry replied and then smirked at his friend. "Little bit."

"Better here than Grimmauld Place," Hermione said.

Ron shrugged. "It's not much different. Old building that's falling apart, creaky stairs, trouble around the corner." He and Harry shared a laugh, suddenly feeling like second years again, eager for a little mischief.

Hermione smiled at the innocence they eluded on their faces in that moment, but trouble was something she was _not _going to allow. "No trouble. Not this year. We finally have a chance to be normal and we're going to be normal," she insisted with the authority of a Head Girl, even though she wasn't. That honour had gone to Hannah Abbot with the Head Boy badge being given to Ernie Macmillan. It had, of course, been offered to Hermione, but she'd kindly rejected the badge, insisting that she wanted nothing more than to blend into the crowd, take her N.E.W.T.s and be a normal teenager.

"Hermione, we're never going to be normal," Harry said with a chuckle.

"_You're_ never going to be normal," Ginny said to him, smirking. "And while the three of you can either choose to bask, shy away or loathe the spotlight, I plan to enjoy the fact that — despite hating you all for it in the beginning — I didn't go with you on the hunt last year, and am, therefore, not a war hero. I'm going to live it up this year."

Hermione shook her head, laughing at Ginny's expression which was frighteningly similar to Fred and George. "Haven't you always?" she asked.

The red-haired witch shrugged. "There was a few weeks while I was dating Harry that life here was just . . . precious," she said with an innocent grin and Hermione knew exactly what Ginny meant. Despite Ron's need to fight it off, Ginny had been a carefree witch with no shame and an abundance of confidence to boot. Harry might have been her first love, but he was hardly her first anything else. "But I'm single, I'm back, and I'm no longer in danger because the Chosen One's in love with me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Gin."

"Are you in love with me, Harry?" she asked as she turned her head to look at him.

He flushed pink instantly. "What? Er . . ."

"Exactly my point. Don't worry about it, I'm not about to burst into tears," she promised him.

Hermione smiled, glad that the pair were content to remain friends and had such ease with speaking about their ended relationship. Despite the horrors they faced over the past year, Harry and Ginny having time apart from one another had benefited them both greatly.

Ron was less than pleased. Harry, at least, could be trusted and he was not happy with the way Ginny was glancing around the room with a growing interest. "You could maybe calm it down with the eying wizards across the Great Hall," Ron hissed at his sister.

Ginny snorted. "Scared I'm making a checklist?"

"Yes!" he shot back.

"Not many Slytherins returned," Hermione commented, trying to change the subject and prevent Ron from making a scene. She looked across the Hall where the green and silver banners hung over the end table. The students gathered there had half the numbers as any other House.

Ron glowered. "Wish there were _less_. Rotten Death Eat —"

"Ron!" Harry scolded.

The redhead blushed and looked across the table at his friend. "Oh, sorry, Hermione," he said, wincing.

She shook her head in mild disappointment. "You need to get over your prejudices, Ronald. Remember what the Headmistress said. We have to be examples to the rest of the student body," she said, sitting up a little taller. "We're considered war heroes and, as much as you think that entitles you to nothing more than Order of Merlin badges and free broomsticks from companies who want nothing more than to take your photograph wearing and riding their merchandise," she continued and rolled her eyes when both Harry and Ron grinned over the memory of their recent meeting and subsequent photo shoot with the owner of Firebolt Brooms, "it also means we have a responsibility to help establish the kind of world we fought for. It's time for a change, and we need to _be _those changes."

"Well said," Harry agreed. "How much work will that be?"

Ginny and Ron shared a laugh as Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Have you already made us timetables for it?" Ron asked.

Hermione scoffed. "I've hardly had the opportunity to . . ." she paused as all of her friends turned and stared at her incredulously. She sighed and reached into her book bag. "Fine, here," she said, removing several neatly folded scraps of parchment to each of them. "It has nothing to do with the inter-House unity that Professor McGonagall wants us to work at, but this is technically a N.E.W.T. year and I don't care what the new Minister says, you're going to take the tests! Am I clear?" she asked with a tone of finality.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry and Ron murmured together.

Ginny sat up and looked at the doors to the Great Hall. "Look there's Remus."

"_Professor_ Lupin," Hermione corrected.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Whatever, I'm just glad he's back. Snape was a rotten Defence teacher and an even worse Headmaster."

"Ginny, he was a spy. He had a role to play," Hermione reminded her friend and then quietly added, "He's also apparently my godfather."

Ron looked up, surprised by the reminder. "Did he ever explain that, by the way?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not as of yet. He gives me the usual response anytime I ask questions, which is to ask my father, meaning read the diaries."

"Find anything good?" Harry asked. "I'm not a big fan of diaries myself."

"Me either," Ginny said with a knowing smirk sent toward her ex and the pair shared a laugh that made Ron uncomfortable. He was less than inclined to easily forget his sister being possessed by a Dark Lord and his best friend needing to kill a giant snake to save her.

Hermione thought about her father's diaries and sighed. "Other than he had an unnatural obsession with my mother's hair?" She rolled her eyes. "No. Nothing good." She deeply frowned. "It's all regret and murder and torture and heartache. I'll be surprised to see if he's even sane by the time I finish reading the entries. It's honestly no wonder that he just . . ." She swallowed down the growing emotions, angry at herself for being strangely attached to a man she'd never met. "I'm sorry."

Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to be sorry, Hermione. It's going to be fine."

"Are . . . are you going to tell people?" Ginny hesitantly asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I think some people already know. But until Sirius starts working through paperwork regarding my legitimacy as a pureblood _heir_," she said with sarcasm, "which I told him was unnecessary, I'll be going by Granger. I might keep my name anyway, depending on what the laws say. I'll never forget my parents, even if they weren't biological," she said firmly. "But I have a feeling the name thing would mean something important to Sirius. Like he wasn't alone in bearing the weight of it anymore."

Harry nodded. "It can feel a little heavy," he admitted, knowing the feeling himself all too well. "Granger or Black, you're still Hermione. I think . . . I think your parents would be proud of you. Probably both sets," he said with a smile.

She beamed at him and blinked away a few tears before reaching and squeezing his hand in thanks.

"What about the hair?" Ron gestured to her mass of black curls. "Can you glamour it?"

"I think it's beautiful," Ginny said, reaching up and running her fingers through Hermione's locks. "It looks like Sirius's hair," she said with a grin.

Hermione laughed. "Should I worry about you playing with my hair and imagining my uncle?"

The little redhead smirked. "Get a few butterbeers in me and ask me again."

"Ginny!" Ron yelled, his mouth hanging open like a fish.

"What?" She glared at her brother. "Sirius is fit."

"Ginny!" Harry and Hermione shouted at the same time.

"Ahem."

All four turned to look at Remus who was staring at them with a disappointed frown though his eyes were filled with amusement. Hermione looked around to see that the whole Great Hall was staring at them and they'd apparently missed the Sorting Hat's new song. She blushed bright red and lowered her eyes. "Sorry, Professor," she whispered.

Remus smiled kindly at the Gryffindors and then turned, the list of new students in hand, and called out the first name, "Andrews, Michael!"

A short, blond boy made his way to the stool at the front of the room, struggled to sit upon it before Remus placed the Hat upon his head. It sat for a good ten seconds before shouting out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" and the nearby table of excited badgers applauded loudly.

"Smith, Aaron!"

A boy with dark skin and bright blue eyes approached the stool, pretending to look confident, but his expression wavered when the Hat touched his head. He sat looking nervous until the Sorting Hat cried out, "RAVENCLAW!" and the boy gave a loud sigh of relief before joining the bronze and blue table.

"Belby, Nicolaus!"

The lanky black-haired wizard sat upon the stool, and the Sorting Hat had barely touched his hair before it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" and the whole Great Hall fell silent.

Remus pulled the Hat from the boy's head, but still he didn't move. His eyes looked back and forth across the Great Hall as the students from the other Houses stared at him in shock.

Hermione frowned. "Honestly, it's not as though we thought their House would be disbanded," she said, feeling great sympathy for the boy who looked like he didn't know where to go. "Slytherin is not synonymous with Death Eater."

"You can join your House now," Remus whispered to the first year, gesturing to the other end of the Hall.

Still the boy made no move.

"Poor thing. Someone should —" Hermione began to say, but her words stopped in her mouth when she saw a head of white-blond hair emerge from the small crowd of Slytherins.

Draco strode toward the front of the Great Hall, his head held high as whispers moved through the crowded tables at the sight of him. He ignored them all and walked up, nodded to Remus in greeting before placing a hand on the shoulder of the newest Slytherin, patting him once before leading him back to their table.

"Wow," Neville said, scooting down the table to sit beside Ginny. "Never thought I'd see Malfoy do something . . . nice."

"He did it for another Slytherin," Ron said as though that made all the difference.

Ginny scowled at her brother. "He also took a curse for Hermione or do you not remember that?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest and looking much too like her mother when disappointed.

"He also gave me the wand I used to defeat Voldemort," Harry pointed out.

Ron bristled. "Fine, let's elect him bloody King of Hogwarts!"

"Would you be quiet!" Hermione hissed.

"Why _did _Malfoy take that curse for you, Hermione?" Harry whispered.

Hermione shook her head, clearly uncomfortable with the discussion. "How should I know?" she replied quickly. "Why did my father try to destroy Voldemort? Death Eaters do crazy things when they're trying to redeem themselves," she said brusquely, hoping to push off the questions.

Ron snorted. "Good luck with . . . I mean . . ." He paused and looked mildly ashamed. "Your father's different is all. He died a hero."

Hermione shook her head. "He was . . . sad and broken. Desperate. I don't think there really are heroes in the world. Just people struggling to choose between a multitude of difficult choices and then reaping the consequences no matter what."

"Harry's a hero," Ron pointed out.

The Boy Who Lived groaned loudly and Hermione smirked at him.

"All I'm saying is . . . there's a difference between what Regulus did and what Malfoy did," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. "Regulus gave his life for the right cause in the end."

"What if Bellatrix had thrown a Killing Curse at Hermione instead of a Cruciatus?" Ginny asked. "Malfoy would be dead. He'd be a hero according to you."

Ron's eyes widened. "That's completely different!"

"Can we not talk about Malfoy or my father or curses or war?" Hermione asked, a desperate look on her face. "Please? We've missed the rest of the Sorting," she said, looking up as Remus took his seat at the high table and Professor McGonagall stood at the podium in the center.

"Welcome, welcome students, new and returning," the Headmistress said. "Before we tuck in for a wonderful feast, I would like to take this moment to talk about the past and the future. These past few years have been terrible for many of us. War is never easy and many lives were lost. Those who lived through the war were forced to face countless horrors but have come to stand tall on the other side of them. We're strong. We're alive and we've a bright future to look forward to. We do not mourn the dead, but instead will honour them by living in peace with one another from this point forward.

"That being said, I would like to introduce new and returning members of staff. Please welcome back Professor Remus Lupin, who will be taking over his old post as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor," she said and Remus was met with a round of applause that echoed in the hall at a deafening volume, "and Professor Severus Snape, who will resume his position as Potions Professor." There was much less applause, but Hermione smiled brightly and cheered for her godfather, something that appeared to annoy him greatly.

"After a year away," McGonagall continued, "we would also like to welcome back Professor Rubeus Hagrid who will once again be teaching Care of Magical Creatures." Harry and Ron cheered the loudest at this announcement, and Hagrid blushed behind his great beard.

"I would also like to welcome back three individuals who obviously need no introduction," McGonagall said and Hermione turned, nudging Harry and Ron. "Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter will be assisting me in implementing changes here at Hogwarts." As their names were called, each stood. "While the Sorting Hat has just placed many of you in your new Houses, you are no longer restricted to remain there. Tables here in the Great Hall will no longer carry the banners of your House," McGonagall declared and then waved her wand. The red and gold banners above Gryffindor table changed to the generic Hogwarts crest, and the other banners across the Hall followed suit. "Common rooms have also been opened to all students for the purpose of nurturing friendships. I should remind you all that these are _privileges _and fighting with other Houses, especially within their own quarters, will be met with the strictest of punishments. Now, please choose a table and tuck in."

As planned, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left Gryffindor table.

Harry made his way to the Hufflepuffs where he was quickly welcomed by the Head Boy and Girl, who he wanted to sit down with to discuss plans for the inter-House unity project. Ron, the most uncomfortable about the new changes, made his way to Ravenclaw where he sat down between Luna and Terry Boot. Hermione squared her shoulders and made the long walk across the Great Hall, finding herself standing at the end of the Slytherin table looking down at Draco Malfoy who was staring up at her, a questioning eyebrow raised.

"May I sit?" she asked.

Before Draco had a chance to reply, the other side of the table adjusted to make room for her and she smiled politely down at Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass before taking a seat beside the witch. "Thanks," she said.

"Granger," Theo said in greeting, "welcome to Slytherin."

"It's not the Slytherin table anymore," Hermione politely corrected. "Technically."

"It damn well should be," Pansy Parkinson said bitterly from a few seats down.

"Shut it, Pans," Blaise Zabini said to her, rolling his eyes.

"I . . ." Hermione began, feeling uncomfortable as everyone's attention fell on her when she spoke. "I would just like to say . . . I'm very glad you all . . . survived."

Some of the Slytherins snorted at her obvious discomfort, but Theo quickly shut them up with a glare before turning his attention back to the witch. "The feeling is mutual," he said with a smile. "Will you be joining us each meal? It would be nice to talk about things other than Quidditch; the rest of these idiots can't keep up with me," he said, gesturing to his Housemates.

Draco sneered at his friend. "Excuse you? I can keep up with your conversations just fine, Theo."

"And some of us _like _to talk about Quidditch," Daphne argued.

Theo stared at her. "You don't even play."

"No," Daphne said and then grinned, "but I sure do like to _watch_." She winked at him and turned to smile at Hermione who couldn't help but laugh at the girl.

Theo rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You won't provoke me, Daphne. _Look _all you like," he said and waved his hand as though granting Daphne a royal dispensation to ogle Quidditch players.

Daphne laughed and bowed her head to Theo. "So gracious of you," she said in a sweetly teasing voice.

Hermione smiled and then cleared her throat at the interaction. "I feel as though I'm missing something important," she said thoughtfully. In reply, Daphne turned and held out her wrist which wore a lovely diamond bracelet. "Oh, how pretty," Hermione said and smiled.

Draco rolled his eyes. "She doesn't know what it means, Daph."

"Oh," Daphne frowned, "I forgot that you're Muggle-born."

Several people started laughing and Blaise leaned across the table to the annoyance of Pansy who he was in the way of. "You forgot that the most famous Muggle-born is a Muggle-born?" he asked his Housemate.

Daphne glared at him. "Shut up, Blaise. I meant that I forgot she wouldn't know what it meant," she insisted, turning away from the boy and looking at Hermione. "Theo gave this to me," she explained.

Hermione smiled in mild understanding. "Oh, so you're an item?"

Draco snorted and Daphne glowered at him before turning back to the other witch. "We're betrothed."

"Oh!" Hermione said loudly. "I should have known. I actually recently read about gifts being exchanged between a witch and wizard to signify an understanding," she said as she remembered the diary entries her father had written in regards to the custom.

"I didn't realise that books on pureblood culture existed," Theo said thoughtfully.

Draco's eyes narrowed curiously at Hermione. "They don't."

"I read it in an old diary," Hermione said defensively.

"Whose diary?" the blonde questioned.

She could feel the rage building inside of her. Gods, she could barely look at him without feeling it. "None of your business, Malfoy."

Theo held a hand out to his friend. "Ease up, Draco. We're done with the prejudiced shite, remember?"

Draco turned and glared at Theo. "I'm not being prejudiced!" he said, clearly offended.

"Fine," Daphne said as she brought a glass of pumpkin juice to her lips and took a sip. "We're done with the _prattish _shite."

"Was Snape telling the truth?" Draco whispered, ignoring his friends as he leaned forward, staring into Hermione's grey eyes.

Theo was intrigued. "What did Snape say?" he asked.

"He's her godfather," Draco blurted out.

Hermione's eyes widened and she glared at the boy with complete disdain, forcing herself not to cry at the way he looked at her, and the fact that he'd just betrayed a secret that had been hers to tell.

"What?!" Daphne turned to Hermione. "Snape's your godfather? How did _that _happen?"

Hermione barely acknowledged the other girl. "You're an arsehole and I hate you," she told Draco and then stood, grabbing her things and making her way quickly back across the Great Hall to sit with Neville and Ginny. Harry and Ron noticed her every move and they turned, focusing on Malfoy and giving the boy a daring glare. Draco caught sight of the duo and threw up a rude hand gesture in reply.

Theo smacked his hand and drew his attention. "What was that about?" he demanded.

Draco glowered down at his plate of food, suddenly not very hungry. "Granger's not a Muggle-born," he confessed. "I don't know how or what exactly happened, but something that . . . that happened to her in the war . . ." he paused, his angry expression fading to one of nausea as he recalled the sound of her screaming on the floor of his drawing room as his aunt tortured her, cut her, and broke through her Glamour Charms, revealing the black hair and grey eyes she was still wearing. Of course now her appearance made sense. "She's the daughter of Regulus Black."

Silverware hit plates loudly and the surrounding conversations at the Slytherin table stalled as all eyes turned to Draco. Blaise swore swiftly and glared at them until the younger students took the hint and resumed their activities. "Black? Black as in the Black family?" he hissed. "Fucking hell." He gaped. "That's . . . that's Wizarding royalty."

Draco sneered. "Isn't she a pretty little princess," he said bitterly.

"Draco," Theo cautioned his friend. "We've talked about this before. Leave her alone."

The blond looked up and glared. "Why does everyone think I'm going to hurt her?"

"Because you did before?" Theo offered.

Daphne was frowning as she watched the exchange happen between the two boys, noticing the silent way they communicated in between subtle words that clearly had double meanings. "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Theo and Draco replied in unison, neither looking at her.

Daphne scoffed. "Fine," she said, clearly irritated. "Just so you know, when we're married, this secret crap is sooo not going to work for you."

oOoOoOo

Late that night, after everyone had settled back into Gryffindor Tower, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna lingered in the common room now that students could move with ease between Houses so long as they observed the curfew. Ron, Harry, and Neville were playing Exploding Snap with Terry Boot and Justin Finch-Fletchley who had drifted over from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. A small owl appeared at the window, flew in, landing in front of Hermione where it dropped a small note.

"That's one of the school owls," Luna commented thoughtfully. "I saw the Head Boy and Girl in the owlery earlier tonight sending out messages for the Prefects. Apparently, it's much easier to use the little owls than hope you can track everyone down in the castle. Especially now that we're allowed inside the other common rooms."

Hermione opened the small envelope, patting the little owl on the head, who nuzzled her hand before taking flight again. "It's from the Headmistress. I have to go."

"Everything all right?" Harry asked, looking up.

"I'm sure it's fine." Hermione smiled. "She likely saw my dramatic departure from the Slytherin table and wants to talk to be about ideas on bringing them into the inter-House unity project."

When she reached the stone gargoyle outside of the Headmistress's office, Hermione scowled at the sight of a familiar head of white-blond hair. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked with a bitter tone, still upset that he decided to spew her personal matters to his Housemates at dinner.

Draco turned, hands in the pockets of his trousers looking far too casual. "Oh, I'm _Malfoy _again?" he asked her, "Funny, I seem to remember you calling me _Draco _when I was being cursed for you."

She glowered, torn between feeling angry that he'd throw something like that in her face, and guilty that she wasn't being grateful for his actions in battle on her behalf. "What do you want? A grand gesture of my gratitude? I saved your life in the Room of Requirement. We're even. Actually, no," she corrected. "We're _so _not even. You were a nightmare for years and then you went and . . ." Her voice caught in her throat and she clenched her teeth as she forcibly tried to keep her emotions in check. "You can't just . . . just . . ."

"What are you doing here, Granger?"

She pulled the small envelope from her robes. "I was summoned."

"So was I," he said, brandishing a similar note.

She frowned. "That doesn't worry me at all," she said nervously, whispered, "Courage," to the gargoyle and ascended the staircase ahead of him, eventually making her way into the office where her gaze fell on the Headmistress behind the large desk, Professor Snape standing beside her as well as three other surprising guests.

McGonagall stood and smiled tightly at the pair. "Welcome, Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger," she said and then started. "Are you still wanting to be referred to as Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded. "For the time being. At least until I discuss it with . . . with my family," she said, doing her best to refer to Sirius as such; it made her feel less alone. At her words, she noted that Professor Snape rolled his eyes.

Professor McGonagall nodded politely. "Please have a seat," she said and gestured to the two chairs directly in front of her.

Draco turned and gaped at the sight of his parents sitting near the fireplace. "Mother? Father? How are you here?" he asked, terrified that something bad had happened. Had escaped Death Eaters returned to the Manor seeking vengeance? Had someone else died? Why were they at Hogwarts?

"They were given permission to meet here," said a voice from the opposite side of the room. Draco turned to see Sirius Black leaning back in a large chair, dragonhide boots kicked up on the edge of McGonagall's desk. "Special circumstances."

"Sirius?" Hermione said in a worried tone.

He smiled up at the witch though it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, sweetheart."

"What's going on?"

"I don't know the whole story," he said and tried not to smirk when McGonagall leaned forward and pushed his boots off of her desk, "but I promise you, I will fix this." Sirius reached forward and took Hermione's hands in his, looking like he was about to be the bearer of bad news, as if she was scheduled for an execution.

Draco frowned and looked back to his parents. "What's wrong?" he asked, noting that his mother looked far too emotional and his father appeared to have been severely offended.

"Well, it's no secret now that Snape decided to blurt the truth out in the middle of battle," Sirius said, glaring up at the Potions Master who didn't react at all, "but Hermione is my niece. Daughter of my brother, Regulus."

"And my goddaughter," Snape added.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and that. Anyway, when I was going through the paperwork for the Black estate," he said, turning to speak to Hermione, "one of my jobs as your Paterfamilias is to secure your dowry should you ever decide to get married."

Hermione bristled at the words and Sirius chuckled gently, slowly removing his hand from Hermione's increasingly tight grip. "Don't look at me like that, you know I hate this pureblood bullshite more than anyone. But, if you ever actually wanted it, I wanted to make sure it was readily available to you. Your choice. When I went to our account manager to set it all up, I found out that I wasn't allowed to set up a dowry."

Hermione frowned, suddenly offended. "Is it because I was raised by —"

"It's because your dowry had already been arranged and set aside automatically," Narcissa interrupted.

Hermione turned and stared wide-eyed at the older witch. "Excuse me? What does _that _mean?"

Narcissa looked down mournfully. "When I was a young girl, I was betrothed to your father. He was . . . a dear boy. I loved him very much," she said as though she were offering Hermione condolences on her loss.

The younger witch took in the look of sincerity on the blonde's face and she turned to her uncle, watching as Sirius emotionally withdrew. It seemed that Death Eater or not, Regulus Black had had the ability to leave an impression. Death Eater or not, his family, these people, still mourned him greatly. "I know about the betrothal," she said, turning her attention back to Narcissa. "I've read his diaries, er . . . well, most of them," she admitted. "He wrote that you'd performed a spell to break the engagement so that you could marry Mister Malfoy."

Narcissa nodded. "Yes. The betrothal contract we were bound under was old Blood Magic. As you've no doubt learned, our family was very heavily involved in such things. Breaking the contract involved a ritual where both parties needed to be in agreement, another suitor needed to be available, and a promise needed to be made."

Draco could see where this was going and he felt his vision blurring and his heart racing. He gently brushed his fingertips against the wand in his pocket, wondering if he would be fast enough to deflect a hex from Granger and, if so, would the Wizengamot judge him for self-defence, especially with so many witnesses in the room. "What promise?" he asked his parents.

Lucius scowled. "The contract doesn't just disappear. Blood Magic doesn't work that way."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Oh, gods."

Sirius stood and placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, the betrothal is a promise between families. Between two parties and when broken, it is then passed from one generation to the next, the promise still intact."

Narcissa stepped forward, grasping her son's hands gently within her own, stood tall and formally addressed him. "Draco," she said softly, "you are and have been since your birth, betrothed to Hermione Astra Black."

* * *

**A/N**: So congrats to the MANY of you who guessed this. I wasn't trying to hide it. I'm well aware that I'm not very good at making mysteries of stories LOL. Still, congrats!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: There were a lot of people complaining about Snape and Draco's attitudes in regards to the last chapter. Why is Snape so rude? Because Snape is rude. Why is Draco being such a prat? Because Draco is a prat. Just because Snape is Hermione's godfather and Draco is the love interest of the story does not make them any less themselves. Snape has spent years spying, Occluding, and emphasizing the worst parts of himself. That's not a switch easily turned off. As for Draco, that story will flush itself out a bit more in the next few chapters but basically he was raised to HATE Muggle-borns, spent years tormenting Hermione because it earned him a pat on the head from Lucius despite his initial desire to be friends with her on the train before learning her blood status. Draco does not like change and Slytherins, by nature, don't like information being kept from them. He's bitter. And he has a good reason for it, I promise. He's just being a little shit about it because that's one of Draco's defense mechanisms. It all goes back to the "there are no heroes, all people are just human, good and bad" theme of the story. Bad people are still loved — whether Guest reviewers like it or not ;) — and good people can still do bad things.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twelve

_Gravidas_

* * *

**1978**

His seventh year of Hogwarts had been everything the years before hadn't. Instead of worrying about or fighting with Sirius, Regulus spent time with his friends. Severus had graduated and was studying under a Potions Master, sponsored by the Dark Lord himself, which Regulus tried not to think about. Without his best friend there, Regulus was forced to interact with other members of his House. Thankfully, he was the only Death Eater and, despite there being constant reports of muggings, murders, and other attacks throughout Wizarding Britain, he was able to put the war to the side for the time being and talk about normal things like Quidditch.

Quidditch. Gods, it was a dream. He'd been put on the team the year before as Seeker, which should have been a moment of bliss but with everything he was anxious about, Regulus had been terrible during every game. They hadn't won once during the entire year. He had been incredibly shocked to find out that he was allowed to try out for the same spot in September and, despite two fifth years trying for the same position, Regulus was the best by far and made the team.

"Just don't fuck up again, Black," their captain said.

When they played Gryffindor in November, Regulus spent the majority of the game diverting the attention of the other Seeker, constantly doing fake plays and low dives and once even flying past the Gryffindor stands to jeer at his rivals. Marlene was dressed in gold and red, waving a large Gryffindor flag and shouting, "Slytherin Seeker sucks!" at the top of her lungs.

Regulus responded by smirking and flipping her a rude hand gesture. McGonagall shouted about his deplorable behaviour and, when no one was looking, Marlene winked at him.

Flying was the most wonderful feeling in the world; when in the air, Regulus would smile at the feel of the wind against him as he closed his eyes. He felt free.

Without Sirius there as a Beater on the Gryffindor team constantly gunning for him and Potter leading the charge, Slytherin dominated Gryffindor in their first game. Regulus caught the Snitch without breaking a sweat.

His team cheered, he was lifted on their shoulders, and there was a party in the common room where he was labeled a hero. _A hero_, Regulus thought to himself, liking the sound of it very much as he tugged down the sleeve of his shirt, making sure his Dark Mark was hidden from everyone, himself included.

When he went to bed that night, tipsy on firewhisky that had been smuggled in, he found his witch in his bed, waiting for him. How the girl was able to look submissive and smug at the same time, he'd never know, but she lay there in nothing but red knickers and a Gryffindor scarf looking like the kneazle that caught the snidget.

"I broke into Filch's office," she said with a devious little grin that made him want to kiss her immediately. He hesitated though, seeing that he had questions as to how she got in the common room, past all the prefects and professors. Before he could ask her though, she held up a familiar looking piece of parchment. "Look what your brother apparently left behind when he graduated."

"You little thief," Regulus said and laughed, jumping onto the bed and charming the curtains shut. "Are you going to keep it?"

Marlene shook her head. "We graduate this year, there's really no point, is there?"

No. No, there wasn't. Because if Regulus had his way, they would leave Hogwarts, run away and get married and never look back. Leave for the continent and figure out some way of magically disconnecting the brand on his arm from the Dark Lord. He'd wondered recently if the Dark Mark could be used to track him should they actually succeed in getting out, but at a meeting over the summer the Dark Lord had stormed around in a huff, screaming about Abraxas Malfoy not responding to the summons. He'd had no idea where the man was and it was days before Malfoy had been reported dead somewhere outside of France where he'd been away on business. Dragon Pox. At least that's what the official report said; what Lucius said. Regulus hadn't paid much attention other than to note that the Dark Lord couldn't use the brand to track down his missing Death Eater and hadn't even noticed when he'd died. The Dark Mark called Death Eaters to him; a one-way means of communication.

"Where'd you go?" Marlene's voice called him back to the room, the present, and the supple body beneath him. "Stay here with me."

"I'm always with you," he whispered and kissed her neck while he simultaneously tugged and pulled at his clothes, using the stupid looking Gryffindor scarf she'd brought into his bed to tie her hands above her head, growling when she giggled at his attempted act of dominance; as though a lioness could be leashed, could be contained in the slightest.

She was magic. A willing sacrifice on the altar that was his bed, smiling up at him as though he were something worthy to be sacrificed for. The sight was pleasing at first but then almost disturbing and he leaned forward, kissing her deep and hard, searching for the fight in her. When she growled a little and nipped at his lip, he let out a breath of air he'd been anxiously holding and then tugged the scarf away from her hands, releasing her.

Marlene frowned and looked up at his face in curiosity. "Reggie?"

"I . . . you should be able to escape if you want to," he said.

She bit her lower lip and sighed. "Don't be there," she whispered. "It's just us. Always the two of us."

oOoOoOo

With Severus off studying to become a Potions Master, Regulus was forced to deal with his family during the Christmas holidays. He was desperate to sneak away to be with Marlene, but they were risking enough simply by being together at Hogwarts. Showing up on her doorstep during the holidays was going to draw attention, and considering he no longer had any close friends outside of other Death Eaters to spend time with, there were no excuses to get away from Grimmauld Place.

Or the gods awful Yule party his mother threw.

"Regulus, darling," Walburga said, looping her arm through her son's and pretending that he was escorting her around the large room when, in reality, she was practically dragging him. "Come and meet some friends of your father's," she said and walked him over to a family of four. The father, a tall man with dark hair looked incredibly imposing, but after being in the presence of the Dark Lord, Regulus found fearing normal men rather pointless. The man stood beside a beautiful but cross-looking wife, and two young girls that looked near Regulus's age. One looked incredibly familiar.

"Antonin," Walburga smiled and allowed the wizard to kiss her knuckles in greeting, "Maria," she said to the older witch and the two kissed each other's cheeks. "This is my darling boy, Regulus. Dear, this is Antonin and Maria Dolohov," she said, introducing them.

Regulus nodded his head politely and shook the extended hand that Antonin held out to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," he said to the wizard and then lowered himself to kiss the knuckles of the witch, "ma'am."

Antonin nodded in approval of the boy's manners and then gestured to the girls beside him. "These are our daughters, Isabella," he said, pointing to a girl no older than fourteen who had dark auburn hair, nearly black in color except when the light reflected off of it, pulled up into a loose chignon with soft ringlets resting against her sharp cheekbones. Antonin then turned to the older daughter, a sour-looking girl who had her eyes narrowed at Regulus. "And . . ." Antonin hesitated as he introduced the elder daughter, "Arielle."

The smile the younger witch was giving him in addition to the scowl coming from the elder had Regulus formally put his hands behind his back and nodding his head in their direction, a polite way to avoid kissing their hands. Isabella looked like the type who would take a simple gesture as something far too intimate, and Arielle appeared like she'd curse him for the pleasure of it. "Ladies," he said with a kind voice.

"Girls," Antonin addressed his daughters, "why don't you go and get yourselves something to drink." Arielle grabbed her sister by the hand and dragged her away from the small crowd, leaving their parents behind looking positively mortified. "Apologies, Walburga," Antonin said with an irritable tone, "we meant to leave the . . . _other one _at home but she just can't be trusted. You know how it is. I trust you won't hold it against us."

Regulus turned his gaze briefly after the girls who lingered near a fountain that had been charmed to pour bubbling champagne that never lost its fizz. Isabella was glowering at her older sister who was scanning the room, looking like a prey animal desperate for an escape.

"Antonin," Walburga said, reaching out and resting a comforting hand on the man's arm, "what I have learned about raising one horrible child is that all your hopes and dreams for the lost one are only amplified by the good child."

Regulus turned his attention back to his mother and offered a grateful smile. "You flatter me, Mother," he said while mentally counting down the days until he could return to Hogwarts. He wondered if it were possible to Disillusion himself so he could slip into Marlene's compartment on the Hogwarts Express and drag her out to find a dark corner where they could exchange belated Christmas gifts since there was no chance he'd be able to send anything to her by owl.

"Little Arielle . . ." Walburga was explaining to Regulus despite not having asked her for more information regarding the Dolohovs, "due to no fault of her devoted parents, was improperly sorted like that wretch of a brother of yours."

Regulus, through years of practice, hid away the sting of pain in his chest at the mention of Sirius with a well-placed sneer. "Brother?" he asked. "I was unaware I had such a thing. Am I not an only child, Mother? I dare say, I'd always hoped for a sibling."

Maria Dolohov giggled. "He is delightful."

"Such a handsome boy, too," Walburga said, reaching up and threading her fingers through Regulus's hair. The action was unnerving as she'd only started doing it the past few years. Until Sirius had become the family disappointment, he'd always been the son who received the affection. And then he didn't and all forms of physical attention had been brutal and violent. Sometimes Regulus wondered when, exactly, his mother would turn on him as well. "Could you imagine?" she asked Maria with a gleam in her eye.

Maria nodded. "Such lovely children."

He raised a curious brow. "Are all witches so very vague?" he teasingly asked. "You feel you can trick us men with your beauty and your words? It hardly seems fair play."

Antonin chuckled and both Walburga and Maria smiled pleasantly. "Darling," his mother said, gripping his arm and turning him toward the fountain where both Arielle and Isabella were still standing, likely waiting for one of their parents to direct them somewhere."What do you think of Isabella?"

Regulus swallowed. "Lovely girl," he said quickly. "I don't recognise her though."

"When Arielle was . . . _misplaced_," Antonin said, "we didn't want to take the chance of another problem, and Isabella was sent to Durmstrang instead."

"Smart decision," Regulus said with an approving tone of voice. "I assume you have a point, Mother?"

Walburga beamed at him. "We were thinking of an arrangement between you and the young Isabella."

His mind screamed a list of obscenities that he was sure had never before passed his lips, three of which he was absolutely certain Sirius had invented himself. "An arrangement? Marriage?" he asked, the image of Marlene with a string of pearls around her neck at the forefront of his mind. He pushed it back, hiding it like a treasure behind his Occlumency shields. "With all due respect Mr. and Mrs. Dolohov, your daughter is much more deserving of a husband who will have time for her. My mother should be aware that my time is greatly occupied," he said and, with his right hand, reached across his chest and lightly scratched at his left forearm, making sure his mother took notice of the movement.

Walburga brushed off his excuses. "That's the beauty of this arrangement," she said brightly. "Antonin has been out of the country for several years, which is why you've not yet made his acquaintance."

Regulus looked up to make eye contact with the man who grinned at him and repeated Regulus's gesture of scratching at his left forearm. _Fuck_, Regulus thought and strengthened his Occlumency shields to the point of discomfort.

"I've heard many good things about you, Regulus," the man said.

The younger Death Eater smiled politely and tilted his head in a gesture of respect before quietly saying, "I am honoured to be a name our Lord speaks well of." He paused to look back at the Dolohov girls, appearing as though he were looking Isabella over with interest when in reality he was mentally wondering how he could get out of this situation. "And . . . _He _approves this?" he asked. "I would never be so bold to make any decision regarding my life without _His _say so."

Walburga grinned and Dolohov seemed to approve of Regulus's obvious unwavering loyalty. "The subject will be brought up before you graduate Hogwarts," the man assured him.

Regulus nodded his head and forced a grateful smile on his lips. "Well then, I look forward to your correspondence."

oOoOoOo

**1979**

His plans for seducing his girlfriend on the Hogwarts Express were left unfulfilled. The morning he was to go back to Hogwarts, his eyes snapped open to darkness still surrounded his bedroom as his forearm burned like a hot iron. He hissed at the pain and jumped from his bed, shouting down the stairs for his mother to come up with an alibi for his late return to Hogwarts.

He returned from the revel outside of Surrey sometime after noon only to choke up the previous night's dinner as the memories of screams haunted his thoughts. A family of four had been tortured and killed. The father, a Ministry worker with a proclivity for putting his nose where it didn't belong, had stumbled upon information that the Dark Lord desperately wanted. Regulus never asked what it was. It wasn't his place to ask things like that. It was his place to follow orders, and his orders had been to hurt the man's wife and children in front of him until he gave up the information.

It hadn't taken more than a threat to get the wizard to speak every detail of every paper he'd ever seen at the Ministry; of every word of gossip he'd heard in the lifts and down long stretches of corridors. Avery had been in charge of the interrogation, leaving the torture of the family to Lucius, Regulus, and Macnair. When the information had been gathered, Avery killed the wizard and told the others to do what they wanted with the rest, so long as they were killed in the end, before Disapparating away.

Macnair grabbed the wife by the hair and dragged her down the hallway screaming. Regulus turned wide-eyed to see Lucius warring with himself as the children sobbed and cried so loud that eventually the blond had to put a Silencing Charm on them in order to focus.

"Lucius . . ." Regulus whispered.

"_You_ do it," the man ordered. "I . . . I have things to attend do and murdering children is beneath me," he insisted, poorly concealing his own fear as he threw the job on Regulus's shoulders.

The younger Death Eater felt himself begin to panic. "Malfoy!"

Lucius turned and looked at the young wizard. "Do it before Macnair finishes with the wife," he instructed. "He's not one to be easily sated, and . . ." he glanced down at the children, "the lines which many of us refuse to cross, he will do so gladly."

The point made, Lucius Disapparated leaving Regulus to clean up the mess. He could hear the witch screaming down the hallway and a part of him wondered if it was possible to kill Macnair and somehow get away with it. While he struggled to find a way out of the situation the screaming stopped, which meant that his decisions didn't matter. He'd lost his chance to do the right thing.

"Any more left to play with?" Macnair's voice called from down the hall.

Panicked, Regulus turned and sent two quick and painless Killing Curses at the children and watched as they dropped to the ground with sickening thuds.

"My poor boy fell ill and we've taken him to St. Mungo's," Walburga wrote a quick lettered and owled it to Hogwarts. "His father will Apparate him to Hogsmeade when he's well again."

Her words hadn't been lies. Regulus nearly begged them to take him to St. Mungo's where he knew the Dark Lord would never step foot inside. He let the Healers fill him with Pain Potions and Dreamless Sleep. When he thought of the dead children and Macnair's eager laughter amidst the screams, he fell sick, heaving until he cried. When he was done vomiting up everything in his stomach including all the potions he'd been given, he cried because he needed to. Because he couldn't stop.

_Dear Severus,_

_The Dreamless Sleep Pomfrey keeps is garbage compared to yours and I don't trust to ask Slughorn with the shite ingredients he has on hand here at the school. I would be very much appreciative if you would think of your friend who has N.E.W.T.s to prepare for and festering pubescent dreams, while amusing during sixth year, are distracting when I'm needing to focus._

_R.A.B._

The letter was filled with lies and secret code that anyone really looking could likely decipher, but desperate times . . .

At least he had one light in his world.

However, that sweet light had strangely turned into a sour bite of raging darkness every time Regulus looked her way. Being in different Houses really did have it's problems. Communication with Marlene was damn near impossible unless she was able to sneak into the Slytherin common room, which she hadn't done since returning to school.

He'd picked a verbal fight with her in the hallway; called her a blood-traitor and a slag, which might as well have been translated into poetic words of love and passion. It was how they worked and had talked to one another the past three years. So why was she ignoring him now? "Be careful next weekend, McKinnon," he told her. "Wouldn't want whatever's haunting the Shrieking Shack to come and snatch you up," he threatened in front of several of his Housemates and a few of hers.

Code: Meet me by the Shrieking Shack next Hogsmeade weekend.

"Hey!" he called out as he caught up with her walking back to the castle from Hogsmeade. He'd stood in front of the damn Shack for three hours without sight of his witch. When her massive head of blond curls came into view, he dropped all pretension and followed after her like a lost puppy looking for a scrap of food. "Why didn't you wait for me at our spot? Marly?" he rushed after her, narrowing his eyes as she refused to look his way. "Marlene!" he said and reached out to grab her arm.

She pulled out of his grip, tears in her eyes as she turned and glared at him. "Get away from me!"

She wasn't wearing the pearls. A pain like no other before seeped into his chest and began poisoning him from within. "What the hell did I do?" he asked with pleading eyes.

She snarled, "Don't act all innocent!" and then reached into her pocket, withdrawing the pearl necklace, launching it at his face. "And take these back!" she yelled, her voice choking on a sob.

"Marly!" he shouted, catching the pearls and rushing up to grab her before she ran off again. She struggled against him but he was much stronger and held her in place, nearly knocking them both over into the nearest snow bank in the process as he did his best to make sure she didn't reach for her wand. "You're not going anywhere until I get a bloody explanation!"

"Isabella Dolohov!" she screamed in his face.

Regulus let go of her and grimaced. "What?"

Marly scowled and then hit him in the chest. "Her sister Arielle is a Ravenclaw and one of my friends! She told me in great detail how thrilled she is that she was passed up by the wretched Regulus Black, for her _sister_! You're getting married!"

_That's what this was about?_ Regulus thought incredulously. "The hell I am! My mother tried setting something up, and Isabella's father is another Death Eater," he tried to explain to her. "I couldn't very well say, 'Thank you, sir, for offering me your daughter's hand in marriage and, by the way, in the rare case that I don't get murdered by the Dark Lord for not following orders and having blood-traitor sympathies, do you think I could please keep shagging my Gryffindor girlfriend?'," he said in a great mocking tone.

The two stood in silence, breathing deep as he tried to will away his anger and guilt and she tried to speak without crying. "What're we going to do?" Marlene asked as fresh tears built up in her blue eyes, making them look like a spring sky reflecting off of the water in the Black Lake.

Regulus sighed, glad that she had calmed down enough to use plural pronouns. "I'm going to convince the Dark Lord that I don't want a wife and that any romantic interest right now would be counter-intuitive and distracting from following orders," he promised her. "I'm only seventeen so it's likely he'll believe me," he said with a chuckle and looked up to see her lip quivering and tears spilling over onto her cheeks. "Why're you crying, love?" He reached up and brushed the tears from her cheeks, ignoring the way that his hands were freezing. Her skin was as hot as her temper had been minutes earlier, and they both seemed to enjoy the change of temperature that the other provided.

"We're only seventeen," Marlene whispered. "Regulus, what're we going to do?"

He cocked an eyebrow and stared at her. "I just told you. I'll deal with the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, and you just keep safe and off of their radar. When we graduate, we'll figure out how to just run away until the war ends."

She shook her head. "I can't run away with you."

His grey eyes narrowed and flashed with anger. "What do you mean you can't run away with me?" he demanded and then, before she had a chance to do any further damage by being so utterly recklessly Gryffindor, he looped the pearls back around her throat, clasping it. "And put your fucking necklace back on. Don't let me ever see you take it off again."

"Reggie . . ." she whispered.

Regulus frowned. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're starting to worry me."

She looked up at him, devastation in her stare. "I'm pregnant."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I'll be out of town and on untrusty WiFi and devices so I don't know how posting new chapters will go. I'll be gone from Thursday this week to Friday of next week but am trying to set it up so that posting chapters will be easy. Fingers crossed. Since I still have laundry and packing to do for my trip, I'm posting some chapters a bit early to give me time to get things done on days when I would normally be writing and editing. Heads up, I can now be found on twitter (shayalonnie) and tumblr (shayalonnie . tumblr . com) Feel free to follow, tweet, or Ask Me Questions there.

Q&amp;As - **1994omi**, JKR never said when exactly Regulus went to the Crystal Cave and found the Horcrux. Only that it was sometime in 1979. In _The Debt of Time,_ I chose May 1979 and stuck with that for this story as well. **milady-in-blue**, There is an upcoming chapter that is partly told from Marlene's perspective. I doubt I'll be doing much from that POV though. **kkcnelson2002**, The Trio went back to Hogwarts for their 8th year because sometimes they do that in fics. If we stuck to Canon and what's logical, then there's little room for creativity. Simple as that. **Guest**, you've made your point (quite a lengthy one) over the past several weeks in regards to Regulus, Severus, and Draco. I highly recommend you stop reading fics about Death Eaters that feature Dramione. They seem to agitate you. , I used one of those reverse due date calculators LOL and it said that Hermione was likely conceived toward the end of December of 1978.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirteen

_Ignosco_

* * *

**September 1998**

"Betrothed?!" Hermione's voice cracked as she screamed the word, her body going stiff as she gripped her wand instinctively. A year on the run from Death Eaters and Snatchers had taught her hand to grab her wand anytime her adrenaline spiked. And it had spiked, to new levels. "What do you mean _betrothed_?!"

Draco, who looked much less shocked and enraged, smirked at her. "Betrothed means intended to be married, Granger. Affianced. Spoken for."

She spun on her heel and thrust her wand toward him. "I know what it means you evil fucking ferret!" she hissed, her grey eyes very briefly flashing silver. Minerva stood and looked to Sirius as though he should stand and hold Hermione back, but the Animagus simply grinned with pride at his niece's wrath, a part of him likely hoping that she'd hex the little blighter.

Draco raised his hands up, showing that he was unarmed which, in itself, was a threat to the young witch. One curse sent his way and _she'd _be the one to suffer the consequences. "Not evil," he said with a sly grin. "We've established that _before_, haven't we?"

Her angry face turned to one of sadness and hurt and tears finally came to her eyes. "I hate you!" she yelled and turned around, burying her face in Sirius's chest as she sobbed, unaware of the way Draco briefly flinched at her words before schooling his features once again.

Sirius, no longer amused by the situation, looked up and glared daggers at Draco for making the little witch cry.

"Do you see?" Lucius stood, narrowing his gaze at Sirius and Hermione. "This needs to be stopped. She's clearly unstable."

"As much as it pains me to, I agree with Mr. Malfoy," Hermione mumbled to her uncle, refusing to look around and face the Slytherin family. "How do we stop it?"

Sirius winced. "Well . . . we haven't found a spell yet, princess."

"Save it with the terms of endearment, Black," Snape drawled, "the girl is smart enough to know the only way that we can put an end to this contract."

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to face her godfather. _Their _godfather. Gods, how much of her life was she supposed to share with Malfoy? She shook her head at his words in bitter understanding as she recalled Regulus's diary entries about the breaking of his own betrothal contract. "Mutual agreement to pass it to the next generation," she said. "That means that if _I _have kids —"

"Then we'll pass the damn thing along _forever_," Lucius said, interrupting her, a look of utter loathing on his face. "I will _not _have the Malfoy name tainted by whatever half-blood spawn the girl eventually gives birth to." Both Narcissa and Draco turned and narrowed their eyes at him.

Sirius growled and took a step forward, wand raised against the unarmed blonde. "Don't you dare speak to my niece like that you son of a bitch!"

"Gentlemen!" Minerva shouted, the look on her face was harsh enough that every witch and wizard felt mild shame. Having taught each of them at various points over the past thirty years allowed her to have such an effect. "I agreed to host this little meeting to _prevent _hostilities. Perhaps you should ask the children what their thoughts are?" she suggested, turning to look at Hermione and Draco who were staring at one another.

Hermione struggled not to cry again. "How could my father have done this?"

Narcissa looked like she wanted to reach out to the girl, the maternal instinct strong, but she stopped herself when she caught a look of warning coming from both Sirius and Severus. She, instead, stared at Hermione, noting the way the lamplight reflected off of her black hair. She looked so much like her father that it hurt for Narcissa to look too long. She had loved her younger cousin and had been heartbroken to hear of his death. "He was only eleven," Narcissa whispered.

Hermione looked up and glared at the Malfoys. "Yes, I know. You _used _him!"

Lucius scoffed. "It wasn't as though I _stole _away his bride."

"No," the little witch snapped, "instead you threatened his brother's life so he sacrificed her in exchange for his protection."

Sirius raised his brows in shock and confusion. "I'm sorry, Regulus did _what_?"

"You didn't know, Black?" Severus asked, arms still crossed as he leaned against the wall, looking ever the picture of indifference to the dramatic scene unfolding before him. "You were set to have many accidents in those early years of Hogwarts, were it not for your brother's interference."

Sirius frowned; anger, guilt, and grief bubbling up inside of him that he was clearly unprepared to deal with. "That . . . that's not important now," he insisted, burying his feelings. "_Hermione_ is important now. What do you want to do?" he asked her. "We can pass it along if that's your choice."

"No, we can't."

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked up at Draco's declaration. "What? Why not?"

The boy shrugged. "Because it has to be a _mutual _decision, and I decline to break the contract."

Hermione's mouth fell open and Sirius's eyes widened. Severus looked contemplative over the announcement and Narcissa and Minerva both seemed intrigued. Lucius, however, looked apoplectic. "I beg your pardon? You will do what you are told!" he yelled at his son.

Draco turned, looking completely unafraid of his father, which was a stark contrast to his entire life leading up to that moment. "Last I checked, _I_ am the current Head of our House. With all due respect, _Father_, the decisions you've made in the past regarding my future have not been in my best interest. I think I will take over from here now, thank you."

"Draco," Severus spoke and stepped forward as though to offer protection for the boy should Lucius do something stupid in retaliation for the lack of respect shown by his son, though Severus himself appeared quite proud of the young wizard. "This is not a decision to be made lightly," he advised.

"No," Draco agreed, "but it's made. I decline to break the contract," he repeated, turning his attention to look at Hermione.

Her mouth was open and she struggled to catch her breath as she stared at him, tears once again falling down her cheeks. "What?! Why? Why would you do that?" she asked him. "You hate me!"

Draco smirked. "What ever gave you that impression?"

"Don't do this, Malfoy."

Draco yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "I think I'll return to my dorm. It's been a very long day," he said and walked over, kissing his mother's cheek. "Goodnight, Mother. Please owl me in the morning to let me know you made it back to the Manor safely."

"Malfoy!" Hermione yelled as the Slytherin made for the door.

He turned back and grinned deviously at her. "Goodnight, future wife," he said and then walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Hermione's hair sparked slightly as she let out a snarl and screamed, "Draco!"

oOoOoOo

**November 1996**

"_Oppugno_!"

"Ow! Hermione! Gerroff me!"

Hermione stormed out of the empty classroom, slamming the door behind her where she immediately ran into a blushing Lavender Brown whose lips were still swollen. Bile threatened to rise at the sight of her dorm mate — and apparently Ronald Weasley's new girlfriend — and the curly-haired witch pushed past the blonde and ran down the nearest corridor, determined not to cry in front of the other girl.

_How dare he! How _dare _he!_ she thought to herself over and over again as she flew through the darkened hallways, not even bothering to light her wand with a _Lumos_. They'd been friends for over five years and she could have sworn that there was something . . . but one minor incident with some Felix Felicis — _damn Harry for cheating to get that potion!_ — and Ron just threw it all away by snogging the first simpering girl that squeezed his bicep and told him how brilliant he was?

_Damn you, Ronald Weasley! _

Hermione turned and angrily kicked the nearest wall, wincing at the pain that shot through her foot. She leaned her back against the cold stone and sank to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest and quietly sobbed into her arms. It wasn't as though she loved Ron, she was logical enough to know they were much too young for such serious emotions. But . . . whatever they _did _have, was so easily thrown out the window by him, along with their friendship. Did he really expect to be friends with her after this betrayal? After using another girl against her like some . . . some tool?

Hermione scowled and a brief flash of what felt like vengeance went through her. She wanted to get him back and make him feel as foolish as he had made _her _feel. For years, she'd put up with his temper tantrums. Everything with Scabbers in third year, not to mention him provoking Harry into casting her out over the ordeal with the Firebolt. She'd taken it all in kind, trying to be logical about it. She would have apologised when she felt she was truly in the wrong, and she _had _been earlier that evening. She'd thought — and so had Ron — that Harry had spiked his drink with Felix Felicis. So why was _she _being purposely hurt over it? She didn't believe in him, he'd said. She was done placating Ronald's fragile ego. Now, in fact, she wanted to _deflate _it.

She mentally began wondering if Cormac McLaggen would still be willing to go to Slughorn's party with her. _That _would certainly show Ron!

There was a noise around the corner that caught her attention and she turned, brandishing her wand and moving to stand. She wasn't on duty, but she was still a Prefect.

"Who's there?" she asked, muttering a quick _Lumos _and turned towards the noise, only to find a head of blond hair bent forward in a dark alcove. The wizard was hunched over on his knees, hands threaded through pale locks, his shoulders heaving. "Malfoy?" she whispered.

The Slytherin turned, surprised at being caught where he was and Hermione could instantly see that his eyes were wet. Shocked at the sight, her mouth fell open and she just stood there, not knowing what else to do. Malfoy turned, wiped his face and then looked back at her again with an embarrassed scowl. "Granger? What the fuck do you want, Mud —" he stopped mid-word, almost looking ashamed, swallowing hard before continuing. "What do _you _want?"

What _did _she want? She wanted her friends to treat her with respect. She wanted to not spend her night crying in the corridors. She wanted Ronald Weasley to know the pain and humiliation that she'd felt when she walked into Gryffindor Tower to see him snogging Lavender. Looking at Malfoy as he stood up, adjusting his robes and reacquiring that air of smugness he carried with him . . . she wanted the world to be a better place where she wasn't some filthy thing for wizards like him to look down upon. "Why are you out of your common room?" she asked.

"Why are _you_?" he countered.

"I'm a Prefect."

"Not on patrol, you're not," he said knowingly. "I may not be a Prefect this year, but Pansy is and I know the schedule. Aren't you supposed to be celebrating with the other idiots?" he asked, his tone bitter. "You _did _win the game after all."

Hermione scoffed. "When have I _ever _cared about Quidditch?"

He folded his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the wall. "You show up to every game."

"My friends are on the team. I want to make sure they're safe," she said.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Potter plays. It's _never _safe."

She knew that she couldn't threaten him enough to go back to his common room, and if she just took points away it was likely that he'd just have Pansy retaliate later on. Still, he wasn't budging from his space against the wall and her curiosity was peaked. "Why aren't _you _playing this year?"

His angry scowl returned. "None of your fucking business."

Instinctively, she held her head higher and said, "Fifteen points from Slytherin for being out past curfew."

He narrowed his eyes and uncrossed his arms. Hermione made sure to watch his hands to see if he would reach for his wand. "You can't do that! You're out past curfew as well!"

"I'm a Prefect," Hermione said coldly, officially tired of wizards feeling like they could just walk all over her. "I wonder who Professor Dumbledore will believe."

Draco glared at her, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. The expression unnerved her on an extreme level. "Give me the points back and I'll tell you why I'm not playing on the team this year," he bartered. A typical Slytherin move.

"Fine," she said, shrugging. She hadn't meant to take the points away to begin with and with this deal it was likely that she wouldn't have to hear her Housemates complain later about Pansy randomly attacking some poor Gryffindor to take away points for absolutely no reason. "Go ahead."

"I have more important things to do."

Hermione sighed irritably. "That's hardly an answer, Malfoy."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "That's the answer I'm giving."

"Why were you crying?" she asked, her voice quiet as though she were trying to preserve some of his dignity in case anyone else was lingering in the corridors late at night. Why she wanted to spare the boy any further embarrassment, she had no idea. He'd never given her a second thought other than how to make her life worse.

Malfoy stared at her silently for a long time before asking, "Why were _you_?"

Her cheeks reddened and she wondered how terrible she must look. Her eyes were likely puffy and red. She would need to stop by the prefect's bathroom before returning to her dorm so that none of her Housemates had a reason to believe she'd been at all affected by Ron's display at the party. "Honestly?" she asked and then thought, _what the hell?_ "Because my best friend thinks I don't believe in him and, after a misunderstanding, he decided to snog a girl in front of me because he thought it would hurt me."

Malfoy laughed. "Someone actually snogged Potter? Willingly?"

Hermione cringed. "Not _Harry_."

Malfoy understood and then immediately blanched at the thought. "Gross," he said. "Well, if you've tried to get him back for it, you've done an abysmal job. Crying will only make him realise that he's won."

She shrugged defeatedly. "Maybe he has. Why were _you _crying?"

His jaw tightened for a moment before he looked down and muttered. "Family problems."

She frowned and instinctively said, "I'm sorry."

He looked back up and glared at her. "Excuse me? _Your _lot is the reason why my father's in Azkaban," he hissed at her.

"_Voldemort_ is the reason your father is in Azkaban," she snarled back at him.

Malfoy's face paled and he visibly recoiled. "Don't say his name," he pleaded, voice bitter and full of such anger; for once none of it was directed at her. Her gaze focused on him as his chest moved rapidly and she realised he was having a panic attack. He turned away from her, muttered several swears under his breath and banged his fist against the wall as he gasped for air.

"Malfoy, sit down," she ordered and when he didn't move, she turned him by his shoulders in frustration and pushed down lightly, watching as he slowly descended, likely too focused on trying to breath than to care that a Mudblood was touching him. Once he was sitting, she forced his shoulders back. "Sit up straight and take slow deep breaths," she instructed. "You're not going to die," she told him. "You're having a panic attack. If you stop breathing, you'll pass out at which point your body will automatically start breathing again. That's the worst thing that could happen, I promise you. As long as you're sitting down, you won't hit your head against something if you black out. You'll be fine. I . . . I won't leave you."

When his breathing slowly regulated, he looked over at her, his eyes rapidly moving as though trying to figure out a way out of this embarrassing situation.

"You don't have to be afraid, you know," Hermione whispered.

Malfoy scoffed. "You don't know what fear is, Granger."

She shook her head in exasperation. "I'm still sorry. Not for what happened to him," she admitted, "he did try to kill me and my friends after all. But . . . I'm sorry that the bad decisions of others have a way of hurting people close to them. It's not fair."

"How did you know what was happening to me?" he asked her.

"After last year," she whispered, not mentioning the Department of Mysteries issue specifically again. "I woke up not being able to breathe. I worried too much and thought too much and got stuck in my head trying to figure out how to keep bad things from happening again. Eventually, I realised that sometimes bad things happen to good people."

He turned and looked at her and the expression on his face hurt her. His hair hung in his eyes, not slicked back like he'd been wearing it for years. He wasn't scowling or sneering or calling her names and, for a split second, she was reminded of the boy she met on the Hogwarts Express that very first day. Where they'd talked about school and magic and purchasing their first wands. They'd smiled and shook hands and laughed together before everything was ruined when he'd discovered that she was a Muggle-born.

"Are you good, Granger?" Malfoy whispered. "Are you a good person? Filled with goodness and light."

Hermione couldn't tell if he was trying to mock her. "I'm not _bad_," she said. "Not entirely."

"I'm not evil," he insisted.

She frowned and then rolled her eyes over his theatrics. "No one thinks you're evil, Malfoy," she said and then looked at him as he raised an incredulous brow. "Okay, well maybe Harry and Ron," she conceded. "They've currently got a wager as to whether or not you're a —"

"_You_ called me evil," he said, interrupting her. "Third year."

She sighed loudly. "I didn't mean it," she said. "And to be fair, you tried to have Buckbeak killed."

"That _thing _attacked me," he argued.

She shook her head. "You were rude and you know it. You deserved to get punched," she said and looked up to watch as he scratched at his nose. She smiled when she saw a tiny scar there, reflected in the moonlight.

When he caught her staring, he smirked at her. "Maybe I just wanted you to touch me," he said suggestively.

Hermione cringed and looked away, trying to hide away the blush that crept up her cheeks. He was a terrible person, awful in so many ways and his father was clearly the role model by which he lived his life. But Hermione wasn't blind, nor was she a very good liar, even to herself. Draco Malfoy was fit. She knew it, all the other girls at Hogwarts knew it, and worst of all, _he _knew it. "If that's the case then you are more twisted than I ever thought," she said quickly, but then added, "But you're not evil."

"I'm not evil, but I'm not good," Malfoy admitted. "You're good. You've always been good."

She turned and looked at him, shocked by the strange display of openness. Whatever was bothering him was clearly something he needed to get off of his chest if he was confiding in her of all people. Then again, if she went around and told people she'd found Draco Malfoy crying in the corridors, who would believe her? "You could be good too if you tried," she whispered.

He turned his body to face her. "What does it feel like?" he asked, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"Being good? I . . ." She frowned. "I don't think I know." She hadn't noticed when he moved closer to her. She sat on the cold floor with her legs crossed at ankles out in front of her, unaware that he'd moved to perch on his knees, his added height made him all the more intimidating and she likely would have drawn her wand against him had he shown her an expression of anger, but he looked confused and curious and his complete lack of a glare threw her off.

When Malfoy leaned close, she could smell the peppermint from his breath as it ghosted across her face. "I wonder what goodness tastes like," he whispered and moved forward.

Shocked by his proximity and words, Hermione gasped which was the absolute worst thing to do. Her lips parted as she took a nervous breath and suddenly his mouth was on hers. Frozen in absolute shock at his actions, she didn't move to push him away which was exactly what her brain was telling her to do. Nor did she participate in the kiss which was what other parts of her body were desperately trying to encourage. It was Malfoy! Draco Malfoy! Rotten, twisted, prejudiced Slytherin who had teased her for years and he was kissing her! Why was he kissing her? Questions and a series of theories ran through her brain as she simultaneously tried to break free of the petrified state she was in.

When she felt his tongue move into her mouth, she tasted the peppermint she had inhaled earlier and a strange, new warmth pooled in her belly in response. Her shoulders relaxed and a shiver went up her spine and suddenly she realised that she was kissing him back. It wasn't like the sweet little chaste moments she'd had with Viktor, nor the awkward and accidental incident with Fred beneath a mistletoe the year prior at Grimmauld Place during Christmas hols. This was something secret and forbidden and . . . and . . . _fire_. _How could a snake feel so warm?_ she thought to herself.

She melted, suddenly aware that he had an arm around her waist and was leaning her back against the floor, hovering over her body. Malfoy moaned, a deep satisfied sound and she felt a strange swell of pride at the noise, whimpering herself when his fingers brushed against her hip. Her own sounds snapped her out of the daze and she pulled away from him quickly, breaking the kiss.

She panted, desperately trying to catch her breath as she looked up into his eyes, expecting revulsion but seeing a strange passion instead. "What're you doing?" she asked, each exhale shaky.

He stared down at her curiously, warring with himself, and reached up to run the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip. When he moved his hand away he watched as she pulled that lip into her mouth, worrying it anxiously between her teeth. He smirked at the sight. "Helping you hurt Weasley and getting back at my father at the same time?" he suggested and leaned forward to kiss her again, this time rougher, pressing his body against hers on the cold floor.

Hermione didn't freeze this time. She found herself reaching for him. Found herself moaning at the taste of him. Her forbidden fruit tasted like citrus and peppermint and smelled like lemongrass and broom polish. He threaded his fingers through her thick brown hair as he kissed her deep and hard and she couldn't help but notice that it wasn't as . . . well . . . slobbery as Ron had made it look earlier that night with Lavender. _He's clearly not as skilled at kissing as Draco . . . wait . . . Draco?!_ She broke the kiss once again and he let out a growl of displeasure.

She wanted to tell him to get away. No, she _wanted _to want to tell him to get away, but she didn't. That was a surprising thought. She knew she should just get up and run. But when she opened her mouth, all that came out was, "No one can know about this."

Malfoy smirked at her, pleased with her words and he leaned down, brushing his lips lightly against her in a way that left her dizzy. "I won't tell if you won't." His tone of voice lacked any disgust. As though she and this moment — this kiss — was a secret for him in the same way it was for her. A secret, not because of what people would think she was, filthy and unworthy of him, but because others just wouldn't understand.

It was forbidden and wrong and . . . and _sinful_.

_Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged_, she thought of Shakespeare's words, never before understanding them better. Goodness. He wanted to know what goodness tasted like and then he'd tasted her. Was he trying? Actually trying to change? Trying to find in himself something he saw in her? She wondered what his family problems were with Lucius locked up in Azkaban. It had to be terrible. She wondered if he'd seen that the way his father lived only led to prison, and now he wanted a different way. He lightly tugged on her lower lip and she actually felt her eyes cross. _Give me my sin again._

When he broke the kiss next, they both gasped for breath and she waited for him to pull away from her, but instead he moved his lips to her neck and left soft kisses down her throat, muttering, "Gods, why do you taste so good?" in a husky tone of voice that set her skin ablaze. "I shouldn't want you, but . . . fuck . . ." he groaned and moved his knee between her legs.

Shocked back to reality when something hard pressed against her thigh, Hermione placed her hands on his chest and pushed lightly. "We have to stop. Malfoy . . ."

He nipped at a spot behind her ear and she keened. "Don't call me that, Granger."

She actually laughed. "Hypocrite," she mumbled and mewled when she felt his fingers creep beneath her jumper, skin on skin. "Draco, stop," she said in a panic and watched, in shock, as he sat up immediately, pulling his hands away from her. She stared at him with wide eyes. "You . . . you _stopped_."

He glared down at her. "Of course I stopped!" he said, clearly offended. "You said stop. I'm not the type of bloke to take a witch against her will. I'm not evil, remember?"

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. "You're not good either."

He shrugged. "Says the girl who got snogged and felt up by her best friend's enemy."

She blushed and then frowned. "Malfoy . . . _Draco_, you're not the enemy."

"Aren't I?"

"_Are_ you?"

He didn't answer her but instead stood up and then quickly pulled her to her feet, adjusting her collar and Gryffindor tie for her, scowling at the colours before he cupped her cheek and grinned deviously. "Meet me back here tomorrow night?"

She chewed gently on her bottom lip and he growled at the sight, leaning forward to kiss her again.

"This is not a good idea," she said when they broke apart again.

Malfoy — Draco — smirked at her. "It's not a bad one."

* * *

**A/N**: Lots of opinions on the last few chapters. For the complainers (and there have been a few) I'm going to politely suggest that if you don't like Draco as a character, don't read Dramione fics. That simple. Many, I know, will be thrilled, and others will likely be pissed off. It's okay. It happens. I will say that this chapter was in the plot the entire time, so you can go back and read earlier chapters and see where it was leading up to if you look closely.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: EXTRA CHAPTER DAY! I adore you all and I'm glad that so many are excited over the reveal of a previous Dramione in this story. For those who have issues sometimes with the timeline of the chapters, this chapter will continue to be a flashback of 6th Year (Yep, continuing the Hermione story instead of the Regulus one today — sometimes that'll happen, especially as we get closer to the end of the Regulus chapters). This chapter, however, is going to be from Draco's POV and will cover several months.

Q&amp;As - **Jasmine 'Jazz' Venn**, I understand some have issues with the consent factor in the betrothal contracts and it will be addressed in future chapters. **Elased**, I don't see Hermione as having actually loved Ron in this story. It was more of a crush that developed into expectations that dropped away very quickly over the Lavender issue of it all. Draco on the other hand . . . :) As for why he blurted out her secret? He's a prat. There was no malice behind it. Just being pouty and made a mistake. **AzuKaVLC**, I'm estimating this story to be between 30-35 chapters long, depending on what ending I choose. **Chester99**, Sirius is definitely a brat. I chose to cling a bit to the fact that he was essentially mentally and emotionally stunted thanks to Azkaban so he skipped a lot of growth phases that were necessary to temper his bratty ways. He has a good heart though deep down. **lrmorena**, Snape isn't purposely being mean to Hermione by dodging her questions. Telling her to ask her father (meaning to read the diaries) is his way of showing her a way to get her answers within context. Certainly he could tell her everything, but only through Regulus's words will she understand who the man was and why he was that way. Snape's not a softie so anything he says would likely come off as only factual anyway, but reading Regulus's words will connect daughter to father.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Fourteen

_Virgo_

* * *

**November 1996**

Kissing Hermione Granger had _not _been his plan.

His plan had been to get inside the Room of Requirement while the Gryffindors were off celebrating their stupid Quidditch win, fix the damn Vanishing Cabinet, and celebrate the fact that neither he or his mother would be murdered due to his incompetence. Unfortunately, no matter what he tried, the bloody thing wouldn't work and then, in the middle of it all, his Dark Mark started burning.

He'd been told it would happen from time to time. There wasn't really a way to summon individual Death Eaters, so when the others were called, he would feel the burning summons even though he knew better than to leave Hogwarts to answer it. No, _he _had to stay there and fix the fucking cabinet. _He _had to kill Dumbledore.

The pain in his arm had radiated throughout his body and he ran to the nearest bathroom to stick his head under cold water to try and stay conscious; in far too much pain to even think of using a Cooling Charm. When the burn finally subsided, Draco dried his hair and left the bathroom, eager to go back to the Dungeons. On his way, he felt an overwhelming sense of panic and fell to his knees, cradling his head as he was wracked with desperate, terrified sobs.

_That _was how Granger found him.

He'd been horrified to be caught crying, but relieved at the same time that it wasn't someone like Weasel that had seen him in such a weak moment. She was a swotty little self-righteous thing, but she strangely had her own sense of weird honour, and Draco found it very unlikely that she'd go and gossip about his emotional breakdown in the back of a corridor.

And then he had noticed she'd been crying as well. Gods, he hated when girls cried. Pansy used it as a manipulation tool, which worked fairly often up until the end of fourth year when every boy in Slytherin was officially done with her outbursts. When Daphne cried it was heartbreaking to watch because Daphne _never _cried. If she was caught in an emotional moment, she'd throw whatever was nearest her at any observers and then run away, covering her eyes. Astoria was worse because she was so much younger. He'd only seen his mother cry once: the night he was Marked.

It turned out, despite wanting to bring the girl misery for the first few years at Hogwarts, Draco, ironically, _hated _to see Hermione Granger cry.

_And fuck Weasley for making her sad_, had been a strange thought that passed through his head. What did he care that her heart had been broken by the ginger idiot? What did he care that she had been in tears not minutes earlier from the look of it. He hated her, didn't he?

"_You're too bold with your words, Draco," Snape had said two years earlier when, during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, Draco had been overheard telling Viktor Krum he should have let the Muggle-born witch drown. Someone, likely Dumbledore, had heard him and asked Snape to remedy the situation. So Draco stood on the other side of his godfather's desk, awaiting a pointless lecture that would go nowhere considering they both felt the same way about the girl. At least he'd thought so._

"_I'm not sorry for saying it," Draco said with a sneer. "I hate her."_

_Snape looked up at him appraisingly and then stood, walking around the desk and leaning against it from the other side, towering over the blond wizard. "And tell me why, exactly, do you hate Miss Granger?"_

_Draco scoffed. "Because she's a Mudblood."_

_He hadn't even seen Snape roll up a copy of _Potions Monthly_ magazine, but he felt it when it thwacked against the side of his head. "Stupid boy," Snape said, shaking his head in disappointment. "What an imbecilic reason to hate a witch."_

"_W-what?" Draco asked, dumbfounded. "But . . . but you hate her too for the same reason."_

_Snape scowled. "I do not bother hating fifteen-year-old girls," he said, rolling his eyes as though such a thing were beneath him. "I'm irritated by her presence and her non-stop repetition of quoting textbooks, but hate?" He shook his head. "Hate is a powerful emotion. Now tell me, why do you hate Miss Granger?"_

_Draco stopped and tried to think of a reason, but all he could come up with was: Mudblood. "She's . . . she's a Mudblood. I'm supposed to hate her."_

"_Because your father hates Mudbloods?" Snape asked._

_Draco nodded._

_"And are you friendly with your father's friends? Acquaintances with his acquaintances?" And then the clincher, "Do you find yourself attracted to witches that your father —"_

"_No!" Draco blanched. Point made. "So . . . so I hate her for . . . she broke my nose last year!"_

_Snape smirked. "There. An appropriate reason. You may go."_

_For some reason, Draco felt that his godfather had been teaching him something that he wasn't quite grasping. It was annoying. And he'd lied about hating her for the punching incident. Sure his nose had been broken and it hurt like hell, but no worse than a Quidditch injury. He'd strangely felt a glimmer of respect for the witch when she'd assaulted him._

_So not hate. He didn't hate her. And somehow when hate was no longer an option, it left a confused void inside of the boy anytime he tried to tease her, call her names or send a hex in her direction. What was the motivation?_

Kissing her though, he had a reason for _that_. He wanted to feel normal. No blood status, no war, no Death Eater or Mudbloods. He was just a boy and she was just a girl and they were alone in a hallway late at night. She was the epitome of goodness and he was desperate to know what it felt like. What normal felt like.

He hadn't been disappointed.

He was shocked, however, when she'd shown up the next night, as he'd requested. And so, in between fearing death at the hand of the Dark Lord, working on the cabinet, planning Dumbledore's murder, and studying for exams . . . Draco Malfoy felt normal and good in the arms of Hermione Granger. His father would have _Avada'd_ him on the spot had he known, which actually made the rebellious relationship — and it was essentially a relationship — that much sweeter.

oOoOoOo

**January 1997**

"What were you doing at Slughorn's Christmas party?" she asked him as they sat inside an empty classroom.

Her blouse remained on, but he'd gotten her out of her jumper, something he'd yet to return in the hopes that the snogging session could continue. Christmas had been a nightmare at home where he'd been questioned on his progress and _Crucio'd_ when he'd been found lacking. Kissing Hermione was a wonderful distraction.

Draco smirked at her, admiring the love bite he'd left on her neck that she was currently unaware of. "Getting caught crashing, I thought that was obvious."

"But why were you there?"

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his pale blond locks. "I saw you walk off with McLaggen," he admitted truthfully. "That idiot's known in all the Houses for being a little too hands on with his dates."

He saw the corner of her mouth turn up slightly. "You went to what? Save me?"

He scowled at her. "Shut up, Granger."

She stared at him. "Draco."

"Hermione."

She pursed her lips in frustration. "Someone saw you speaking with Snape after the party. What were you talking about?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

_Fuck_, he thought, recalling his conversation with his godfather in regards to his mission. "Aren't you going to wear your Christmas gift?" he asked, ignoring her question as he gestured to the rectangular box sitting next to her, the ruby necklace visible in the moonlight that shone through the window. "I went to a lot of work picking it out."

Hermione shook her head the same way she did upon opening the gift. "Absolutely not. It's too expensive. People would ask questions."

Draco scowled, a part of him wondering if she knew about pureblood traditions. He didn't think so, but he still wanted her to wear it. He wouldn't even hold her to the implications of accepting such a gift. It wasn't as though he'd actually be able to marry the girl one day. "It would make me very happy, _Hermione_, if you would wear that necklace."

She shook her head again. "I didn't get _you _anything."

He laughed. "You don't need to," he said. As though she had enough money to buy him something he couldn't afford himself. Granted, he wouldn't mind if she'd let him get a hand under her bra. "If you're not going to put the necklace on, then you better placate my wounded ego in better ways," he said with a leering grin.

Instead of appearing disgusted as she might have done a month or two earlier, she laughed and hit him on the arm. "You have the biggest ego of anyone I've ever met."

He smirked at her. "Sorry, all I heard was, 'You have the biggest of anyone I've ever met'."

When her eyes widened in shock and she opened her mouth to scold him, he kissed her long and deep and then laid her back down on the ground, shoving the necklace and thoughts of it's meaning aside as she moaned into his mouth and he did, in fact, slip a hand under her bra.

oOoOoOo

"A bezoar!?" Draco yelled, kicking over a dustbin in the corner of the library that the Room of Requirement had built for them. It was the last time he let Hermione get to ask for a location to snog. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

She sat nearby, chin in her laced fingers, elbows on the wooden surface of the table in front of her. "I'm just as annoyed with him as you are," she said irritably.

Draco scoffed. "I highly doubt that. Do you know how difficult it is to put together a proper antidote to poison?" he asked. "And Potter gets off with a fucking bezoar. How's he doing it?" he asked her, turning to watch as she looked away. She knew the reason and whatever it was pissed her off as well but she wasn't confessing Potter's secrets. Damn.

"What are you and Crabbe and Goyle up to?" she asked instead and Draco cringed.

"Family stuff," he said, waving her off. "I've told you before. It's nothing you need to worry about."

"We need to stay in the Room of Requirement from now on," she said, her tone serious. "Harry's paranoid and we can't have him catch us in the prefect's bathroom or a random broom closet."

His bad mood almost instantly abated and he walked over to stand behind her chair, twirling a lock of her brown hair around his finger. "I really like the prefect's bathroom though," he said and then leaned down to whisper against the shell of her ear, "Then again, I suppose the room could just create a bath, couldn't it?" he asked and then closed his eyes, requesting such a thing. When he opened them, he grinned as he spotted a new door in the corner of the room. "Feel like getting dirty so I can clean you up?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're disgusting."

Draco grinned. "You love it," he said and then spun her chair, crashing his lips against hers and kissing the breath from her lungs.

They never made it to the bathroom in the corner but instead ending up laying on the strangely soft ground surrounded by piles of books and somehow, miraculously, she lay before him like a lovely sacrifice on an altar, in nothing but her knickers, arms crossed over her chest and her bottom lip sucked between her teeth. She was shaking in nerves . . . or fear. Fuck . . . he'd made her fear him because the past few months couldn't erase the past six years. He was an arsehole.

"Draco . . . I . . . I've never . . ."

"I won't hurt you," he whispered the promise, leaning down to gently kiss her, unwilling to show exactly how nervous he was at that moment as well. "I know, coming from me that's a laugh." He frowned.

"You've never even said you were sorry for it," she told him. "For everything."

He blinked a few times, letting her words sink in. "Would it help?" he asked honestly. "Would three little words make up for everything?" he asked, thinking of "I am sorry" though three _other _words teased at his consciousness. He forcibly swatted them away. "I'd rather be a man of action."

Her brows furrowed together. "Are you though? Sorry?"

She was afraid of him. Afraid that he'd hurt her. Yes, yes, he was sorry. He was a sorry piece of shite.

"Yes," he admitted. When she looked away and exhaled in what he hoped was relief, he glanced down at his left forearm, glad that the glamour he'd put there hadn't faded, it had taken a good hour to get it to stick in the first place.

"I'm a Gryffindor," she said looking up at him, talking as he removed the last scrap of fabric that kept them apart, tossing it to the side and settling himself in the cradle of her thighs. "I'm not supposed to be scared."

Draco smiled at her. A genuine smile. "I'm a Slytherin," he said, positioning himself at her entrance. "I'm not supposed to be reckless."

He swallowed, waiting for her to give one last confirmation and she anxiously nodded her head. Leaning forward he kissed her sweetly, a kiss full of promises that he knew he'd have to break eventually, and thrust once, hard, sheathing himself fully inside of her and cringing as she cried.

He did what he could to make up for the pain, a part of him wondering if he could make up for _everything _else he'd ever done to her. When they'd finally parted, fully sated and sweating, he pulled her against his body, trying not to panic when he saw the blood stained between them. _Filthy blood_, the voice of his father echoed in his head and he fought like hell to keep it out.

oOoOoOo

**May 1997**

When Weasley ended up drinking the poison meant for Dumbledore and nearly died, she knew he had something to do with it. They'd fought and he'd denied everything, naturally, and she hadn't spoken to him for the rest of the month. He'd been so focused on her that when the Dark Lord entered his mind over Easter holidays, he'd barely thrown his Occlumency shields up in time. But the Dark Lord had seen enough to know that there was a girl, a distraction, and threats were made to help motivate Draco along. He thanked Salazar and Merlin that the Dark Lord hadn't seen her face.

"Draco, is everything okay?" Hermione asked him as they sat on a couch in the Room of Requirement that looked like the Slytherin common room. He'd offered to turn everything red and gold, cringing as he spoke, but she'd only smiled and said, "No, I'm comfortable here," before she apologised for thinking he had tried to murder her friend — even though he accidentally almost did — and he'd forgiven her and kissed her like it could be the last time. "You've been . . . acting strangely since you got back from Easter hols," she told him.

Draco sighed, stress etched on his face, bags under his eyes, his robes hanging loose on his too-thin frame. "Just worried about my mother; don't concern yourself with it."

She frowned. "Draco . . . have you been eating? Or sleeping? You look . . ."

"Handsome? Sexy? Ravishable?"

"Sick," she said and he looked down, frustrated. "I'm worried," she explained, nervously biting on her lower lip.

"I'm fine, Granger."

"Draco . . ."

"I'm . . . Hermione, I'm fine. Just . . . family stuff."

"All right," she said, defeatedly, a bit of irritation in her voice that said for sure he was not going to get laid today, which was a disappointment because the cabinet still wasn't working and Draco thought it would be lovely to be slaughtered after a really good shag. "I'm here if you need to talk to someone," she said after standing from the couch and collecting her book bag. "You know that, right?"

He nodded, strangely grateful that the girl who he thought he'd hated, who he had been so sure had hated him, somehow seemed to work concern for his wellbeing into her overly busy schedule of keeping Potter and Weasley alive. "Go," he told her. "I know you're stressing about that Arithmancy essay."

She smiled. "I'll see you tonight?"

"I'll meet you back here."

He spent another hour trying to work on the cabinet after that and when it still wouldn't work, he'd collapsed to his knees in another panic attack remembering the threats that the Dark Lord had made over Easter and the way that the other Death Eaters and Greyback the werewolf had whispered suggestive things that they'd like to do to the women in his life. Forgetting how Hermione had calmed him out of the last breakdown, Draco rushed out of the Room of Hidden Things and made his way to a bathroom where he gripped the edge of the sink and cried, wondering if the Dark Lord would just throw a Killing Curse at him, or if he'd torture him first.

"Don't," Moaning Myrtle's cooed at him from one of the cubicles. "Don't . . . tell me what's wrong . . . I can help you. . ."

He shook his head and let the sobs move through his body. "No one can help me," he told the ghost. "I can't do it. I can't . . . it won't work . . . and unless I do it soon . . . he says he'll kill me . . ." he gasped for breath and turned to look up, hoping that he wasn't a complete and utter mess. That's when he saw a bespectacled face staring back at him in the mirror from over his shoulder.

Shocked, embarrassed, and angry, Draco spun on his heel, wand raised and shot off the first hex he could think of which missed Potter by inches — the fucking snoop — and shattered a lamp on the wall instead. He didn't hear the spell that Potter threw back at him, which was annoying in and of itself that Wonder Boy knew a few non-verbals, but Draco tossed a quick and silent _Protego _just in time to deflect.

His rage built as he stormed forward, angry at the black-haired boy for not killing the Dark Lord for good the first time, or for being the secret ingredient that brought him back at the end of fourth year. Angry for Harry Potter being the focus of the Dark Lord's hate and anger and yet it was Draco who took the brunt of it because the psychopath was living in his home, had been the reason his father had gone to Azkaban and was likely, at this very moment, terrorizing his mother and there was nothing he could do about it because the fucking cabinet wasn't working!

Myrtle was screaming for the pair to stop and Potter threw a hex that went over Draco's ear, smashing the cistern behind him and water gushed out. Draco gasped at the feel of the cold water and was instantly reminded of the last time he'd been home when his aunt Bellatrix had put him under the Cruciatus Curse until he blacked out and then woke him shortly after by throwing cold water on his face.

Confused and angry, caught up in the flashback, Draco raised his wand and shouted, "_Cruci_ —" but stopped when Potter's spell hit him first.

"_Sectumsempra_!"

Blood spurted from his face and chest and a sharp pain shot down through his body. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand. He vaguely heard Potter scream, "No!" but as his vision went blurry, he tilted his head to the side, watching as his blood pooled around him. As his vision spotted, he realised that his blood was the same shade as Hermione's when he claimed her for the first time.

oOoOoOo

"Draco?"

He opened his eyes and saw the little witch standing at the foot of his bed in the Hospital Wing. He remembered Snape bringing him there, whispering a Healing Spell that sounded like a song and suddenly the light-headedness slowly abated, but the pain stuck around long after. "He'll be left with a scar," Madam Pomfrey had said. They'd given Potter detentions and took away Quidditch and Draco couldn't help but think that if their positions had been reversed and it was Potter in the bed, running a finger over the wound on his chest, Draco would be sleeping in a cell in Azkaban right now. He didn't bother complaining though. What was the point? Draco knew he would be dead by the end of the year anyway.

"What do _you _want?" he said, scowling at Hermione.

Her eyes were red. She'd been crying. Draco felt a bit mollified in knowing that it was likely because of him. He didn't see the girl sobbing over Potter's detentions or lack of Quidditch but finding out that her secret boyfriend was almost accidentally murdered by her best friend? That likely brought about a bit of sadness.

"I heard about what happened," she said, looking nervous. Looking afraid. He _hated _that she was afraid of him, even now, after everything they'd been through during the last six months. "I . . . I wanted to see if you were —"

"Still alive?" He sneered. "Yes, no thanks to your _friend_. I hope the Dark Lord finishes him off. The world would be better for it."

She gasped and he felt angry at her shock over his words. "Don't say that. He's my friend and I —"

"Your _friend_, almost murdered me, Granger."

"And I'm not defending that," she insisted. "But he says you tried using an Unforgivable on him!"

He glared at her, looking ever the boy he used to be years ago. "And I'd do it again," he admitted though he didn't quite believe his own words. "Next time maybe I won't miss."

She started breathing heavy, shocked and horrified and it was then that Draco knew. Knew that pain now would make it so pain later wouldn't come. She'd likely celebrate his death if he were an absolute prick. Maybe if she hated him again she'd stop being afraid that he'd hurt her. Unfortunately, to get her to hate him, he had to hurt her.

"Who . . . who are you?" she asked through tears.

He smirked up at her. "Haven't you figured it out? I'm the bad guy."

She shook her head because she had to make things difficult and argue with him. "No. You're scared and you're hiding something and you need to let someone help you. Let me help you."

"I don't want help from you, Granger. I don't need the help . . ." he shook as he struggled to breathe, "of a filthy, fucking _Mudblood_."

She stared at him, tears in her eyes and he clutched at his sheets to keep from breaking his resolve. "I hate you," she finally said and despite it hurting worse than the curse he was currently recovering from, he felt relief.

"Good. Now fuck off."

Without another word or wasted glance in his direction, she left and Draco fell back against his pillows, violently punching the mattress beneath his fists. "Fuck!" he screamed to stop himself from crying.

"That was a bit dramatic," a voice said from the next bed over.

Draco gasped and turned to see Theo laying there, hands behind his head, yawning as though he hadn't a care in the world. "Piss off, Theo. Why are you even here?"

"Snape told me I could stay," he said. "Likely to make sure no one called the Aurors behind his back about you and Potter's little spat." He sat up and sighed. "You did the right thing, you know. You were a massive prick about it, but you likely just saved her life."

Draco sighed. "She would have argued if I wasn't a prick. I'm dead. No use dragging her down with me."

Theo nodded in understanding. "If anyone knew — if your _father _knew . . ." he shook his head, an obvious shiver running up his spine.

Draco silently agreed but made no motion, barely a sound before finally saying. "Now she'll live. She'll live and I'll be the prick she'll hate just enough that when I die, she won't even feel bad about it."

Theo scoffed. "Don't kid yourself, mate. For some reason that I don't truly understand, that witch loves you. And you love her."

Draco frowned and winced as he tried to roll over, eventually settling on closing his eyes to block out his friend. "Go away."

* * *

**A/N**: Since I won't be around to answer questions for the next few chapter updates next week I'm going to cut a few of you off at the pass. Yes, I realise that Hermione fell into bed with Draco fairly quickly. Why? Because that happens. Sometimes Hermione is made out to be this virginal character who "should know better" and is strangely unaffected by typical teenage hormones other than the occasional blushing in Ron's general direction. Sometimes that works for stories. I chose to go a different route this time and try to say that just because a girl has sex (whenever she wants to, and yes, she wanted to) doesn't make her suddenly inept, damaged, or sullied. Hermione made a decision about what to do with her own body. Was it right? Only she can say. She fell for the bad boy (it happens, even to smart girls. I have old high school report cards and a list of bad boy ex-boyfriends from my teen years to prove it LOL). Also, Hermione has a serious case of needing so save the downtrodden, and Draco is very much broken during 6th year.

Also, yes, there will be more digging into this 6th Year relationship in future chapters.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I'm currently on vacation and unable to edit so if there are any mistakes I'll have to fix them when I get home. Hope everyone is having an awesome week!

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Fifteen

_Nuptiae_

* * *

**1979**

Regulus slowly opened his eyes, surprised to find himself in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. Had he been in a Quidditch accident again? He touched his head, feeling for an injury but found only a small bump. He blinked several times and tried to sit up but felt woozy and exhausted. "W-wha . . ."

"Oh!" Madam Pomfrey said and rushed to his side. "Don't sit up too fast now, dear, you had a bit of a fall."

"Fall?"

"Yes, Miss McKinnon said she found you on her way back up from Hogsmeade and that you'd tripped and fell into a snow bank. You've no severe head injuries to account for your lack of consciousness, just the little bump. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you hyperventilated," she said knowingly, eyeing him with a silent question on her lips.

"I . . . I can't . . ." He turned and spotted Marlene in the corner of the infirmary quietly speaking to Professor McGonagall who would occasionally turn and glare in his direction. "Fuck," he whispered as his memory came back to him. _Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant._ "She . . . is she . . ." he began to ask, not realising that his hands were shaking as he nervously ran them through his hair. When he did catch the movement, he fought extremely hard to control himself, not wanting to appear weak and vulnerable, especially considering he was in the Hospital Wing and who knew what potions Madam Pomfrey slipped down his throat when he was unconscious.

"She's quite healthy, Mister Black," the mediwitch said. "How _you'll _fare once Minerva comes over here, is well . . . debatable," she added. "It's a good thing you're already in the Hospital Wing," she quipped before handing him an Invigoration Draught and then leaving him to wait.

He stared at the potion and quickly put it aside. He was exhausted from whatever fall he'd taken when he'd clearly passed out, but his head was already buzzing with anxiety and, as much as he'd like to fully wake up, an Invigoration Draught, especially one brewed by Slughorn and not Severus, would have him wanting to punch his fist through the castle walls just to relieve tension.

"Mister Black."

Regulus looked up into the hard, cold eyes of the Deputy Headmistress. How the woman was able to actually invoke guilt inside of him with a stare was unsettling. He didn't even care if he disappointed his mother, especially considering it was an inevitability. But _this _woman? Fuck, she had a way of looking at a person and making them question every decision they'd ever made. Right now, he expected she was forcing him to question his ability to cast a Contraceptive Charm which, Regulus had to admit, clearly wasn't N.E.W.T. level work.

"Professor," he said, addressing her.

Her lips pursed and she let out a choked sigh that almost sounded like a hissing cat, which was quite fitting. "_Young_ Miss McKinnon has just informed me of the . . . situation."

His eyes flickered to Marlene who was staring at him nervously from behind McGonagall. From an outsider's perspective, it appeared as though the professor were protecting the little witch who was shaking with fear of whatever Regulus might do to hurt her. He knew that look though. That desperate look in her eyes that told him she wanted nothing more than to run into his arms so they could both reassure one another that this too would pass. "I . . ." he struggled to speak.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself young man?" McGonagall asked.

He assumed that she was looking for an apology. Something similar to, "I'm terribly sorry that I knocked up one of your cubs and by your leave, I'll slither on back to the dungeons like the wretched little snake that I am." Perhaps she wanted him to wax poetic about what a shitty person he was, cry and plead for forgiveness for all of his wrongs. She didn't know how long that list was. He wondered if McGonagall was looking for him to make some grand declaration like Sirius would have.

"Hide her."

The old witch's eyes relaxed in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Regulus cleared his throat and spoke louder this time. "Hide her," he said. "Keep her safe. No one can . . . no one can know. My parents they . . ."

Oh, gods . . . his parents. His mother! Visions of Andromeda ran through his mind and years earlier when she'd been blasted off of the tapestry. There had been comments about her being tortured by her father and sister and knowing Bellatrix as well as he did now, the likelihood of such a thing happening was very high. Regulus could take a _Crucio _— and often had since becoming a Death Eater — but Marlene. They would hurt her. Torture her. Do unspeakable things to her just to get rid of the life growing inside of her, and then she'd be killed just for fun.

He felt sick.

McGonagall misunderstood his request. "You don't plan on taking responsibility then?" she asked, her thin brows furrowed in anger. "I expected better of you Mister Black. I don't even think your brother would have the nerve to abandon —"

His gaze narrowed. "I'm not _abandoning _her. I am taking responsibility," he hissed. "I'm asking you for help to keep her safe because she's a Gryffindor and the daughter of blood-traitors and I don't trust my mother to not kill her if I look the other way for even a split second," he angrily admitted. "I'd marry her in this bed right now if I could, but the Wizarding world seems to be in a bit of a bind lately, wouldn't you agree, Professor?"

Her small eyes widened at the outburst and she looked to be a mixture of annoyed and proud which confused Regulus. Gryffindors and their bloody mixed emotions. "I should report you to the Headmaster," she said, but then made no move to leave. Her words were a threat. A test.

"Don't," he said, dropping his eyes and his attitude. "Please . . . not Dumbledore."

"And why not?"

"I . . . I don't trust him," he said with a sigh. "Marlene told _you _which means she trusts you. I trust her. Most of the time."

"She will be an outcast. Our world progresses more and more every day, but a single witch with a child?" The older witch anxiously scratched the back of her neck; a nervous tick.

"She's not single," Regulus insisted. "That necklace she's wearing says she's _mine_," he said possessively, watching with a bit of relief as Marlene's cheeks reddened at his public display of claim, even if it was only to one other person.

McGonagall was surprised by the claim as well, and it was clear that her hackles were raised a touch at his tone. She was a progressive witch herself to the point that when she'd married, she'd kept her maiden name. It was apparent that the bit of dominance Regulus held over Marlene at that moment was not something McGonagall found amusing. She did, however, respect pureblood traditions and when her eyes fell on the necklace around Marlene's neck, she sucked in a breath. "It would seem . . . I was mistaken about your character, Mister Black," she said and then sighed loudly. "At least about one thing."

Marlene stepped around McGonagall and stood by the side of Regulus's bed, reaching a hand out for his and lacing their fingers together. She smiled when he brought their clasped hands to his lips. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out and touching the bump on his head.

"Are you really pregnant?" he asked, trying to joke but failing.

She nodded nervously. "Yeah."

He stared at her stomach where her hand briefly touched in reaction to his question. There were no signs of her showing yet, it was far too early, but he couldn't take his eyes off of it, even clothed as she was. He remembered it hadn't been more than a month earlier he was licking honey off of her bare abdomen, fingers buried in her quim. The thought made him flinch a little now, only slightly disgusted with himself though he didn't really know why. About one thousand questions ran through his mind as he began to wonder if he'd ever be able to touch her again without worrying about hurting her.

"Then I'm still panicking," he admitted. "But I'm . . . I'm okay. As long as you and . . ." he began to speak but his eyes flickered to her stomach again, wondering if this was genuinely real or if he'd hit his head harder than he'd thought.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "I was under the impression that the two of you greatly disliked one another and have done so these past few years."

Regulus smirked. "That was kind of the point. Do you know of any other current Slytherin and Gryffindor romances, Professor?"

McGonagall frowned at his cheek and then turned to look at the young witch. "Miss McKinnon, have you told your parents?"

Marlene nodded. "My mum was the one who cast the spell to find out," she admitted and swallowed down growing emotions. "They . . ." she hesitated nervously, a sad look on her face. "I didn't tell them about Reggie."

"They should be Obliviated."

"What?" Marlene turned and gaped at him. "Reggie!"

He held tightly to her hand, not in the mood or condition to chase her around the castle should she get angry with him and storm out. One of them had to think logically. "Marley, you're pregnant with my child. Do you have any idea how much danger I've put you . . . you both in?" he asked, burying down his own rising feelings. It was one thing for Marlene to see him break down, but he wouldn't give McGonagall the pleasure. "The fewer people that know the better. At least until I . . ." Regulus paled. "Oh, gods, I need to get out."

Marlene sucked in a sharp breath.

"Get out of what, may I ask?" McGonagall questioned.

Regulus looked up at the woman and shook his head. "I may only be seventeen, Professor, but I'm not stupid. I know about the Order and I'm aware _you _are a member of it," he said and predictably saw her flinch slightly in surprise. "As well as my brother and his friends who more than likely had a great deal to say about Severus and myself over the summer."

Her eyes flickered to his arm. "Nothing was proven."

Annoyed with the pussyfooting, Regulus lifted his sleeve. "Fine, here's proof," he said, exposing the Dark Mark in all its petrifying glory.

"Reggie!"

He expected the Deputy Headmistress to flinch away angrily, or look at him with revulsion. What he hadn't expected was pity. "You're only a boy," she whispered, covering her mouth with a hand as she stared at the mark. "Only a boy. What are those . . . wicked men thinking?"

He hated pity. "I'm a year younger than my brother, Professor," he said bitterly, "and Headmaster Dumbledore is recruiting graduates for _your _side of the war very close to my age. Both sides of this war are making colossal mistakes. I'm . . . I'm just a . . ."

The older witch squared her shoulders and reined in her emotions. "Yes, Regulus Black, what exactly are you?" she asked curiously, her voice stern once again.

He looked down at the Dark Mark, pulling away when Marlene went to brush her fingers against it. She'd done it before, a comforting gesture that reminded him he wasn't what the Mark implied. But he couldn't let her touch it anymore. He'd infected her with his presence long ago and she'd built up a strange immunity to the darkness he was sure was ingrained in his bones. But . . . the child . . . "I'm a necessary evil," he confessed.

"You're not evil," Marlene insisted.

Regulus frowned. "I'm not good."

He sighed and covered the Dark Mark once again and turned to look back up at the professor. "I . . . I've been trying to keep the casualties to . . ." he said, trying to explain his actions with words she might understand. Why he joined the Death Eaters had been because he didn't feel he had a choice. He'd be dead otherwise and, if not, then others would be dead to teach him a lesson. "My brother," he tried to say but then stopped and sighed, "but none of that matters now. I'm going to take care of you," he said, looking at Marlene. "But I need help."

"I can keep it hidden until graduation, I think," she whispered. "But after that . . ."

"We run away. Hide somewhere under a Fidelius Charm."

McGonagall's eyes widened. "How do you know magic like that?"

"I've been planning this getaway for a year," he admitted. "I just didn't know it would have to be under these circumstances. There's an old cottage that belonged to my Uncle Alphard. Sirius ended up with his money, but I was given the properties. My parents don't know because he was worried they'd try to take them from me."

"Professor McGonagall can be our Secret-Keeper," Marlene suggested and smiled hopefully up at their teacher.

Regulus bristled. "I was thinking Severus."

"Severus Snape?" McGonagall snapped. "Is he not another Death Eater?"

"Yes," Regulus replied, "but . . . he's different. Lost and confused but he doesn't belong there anymore than I do. I trust him with my life."

"Do you trust him with their lives?" The older witch gestured to Marlene.

Regulus thought about it for a long moment, not wanting to be rash and reckless. He slowly nodded. "Yes. He'll help, and then . . . and then I'll figure out how to get out. Stay hidden until the war ends."

"You could offer a great deal of information to a side that could end it," the older witch suggested.

Regulus scoffed. "No. I'm not joining your Order. I'm _done _fighting. I'm done being a soldier. Done being a pawn in someone else's game," he said bitterly. "And I won't have my family used against me. Not anymore," he said thinking of Sirius and then his gaze fell on his witch. "Not this family," he said, kissing Marlene's hand once again.

Madam Pomfrey insisted that Regulus rest in the Infirmary for the night just to make sure he was all right. Marlene returned to Gryffindor Tower just before curfew. When he finally thought he was alone in the Hospital Wing, he let the mask of maturity and adulthood fade away along with the Occlumency shields that he'd been holding up since waking, just in case Professor Dumbledore walked in. The stress, fear, and anxiety hit him all at once and Regulus curled into the fetal position and cried into his pillow, great big tears of fright, the smallest glimmer of something that felt like pride and hope, but then fear once again that such hope would be ripped from him.

Marlene was pregnant. He was going to be a father. And they were all in grave danger. So he wept now because he wouldn't be able to later.

From the door of the Hospital Wing, Professor McGonagall quietly watched as Regulus Black broke before her eyes. She frowned at the sight and then turned to leave to make arrangements for the young couple. Shaking her head sadly, she whispered, "Just a boy."

oOoOoOo

**April 1979**

Severus angrily stared at Regulus as they stood outside the small cottage that had once belonged to Alphard Black but now belonged to Regulus. He couldn't blame his friend for being surly. It was his nature, and a request like this wasn't something taken lightly.

"You're the only one I trust to keep them safe," he told him.

Severus narrowed his black eyes. "Why would I want to risk _my _life for _your _family?" he asked. "If you recall, I despise at least one member of your family. Narcissa is polite enough and, despite being a pompous arse, Lucius has become a friend, but Bellatrix is clearly out of her mind. And I'm to put my life in jeopardy for another Black?" He scoffed loudly and crossed his arms over his chest, burying his hands in the flowy black robes he wore. "Someone with the potential to be born either gifted, repugnant, or unhinged."

Regulus rolled his eyes at the insults. Bellatrix was mental, yes, and Sirius could be reckless and obnoxious, but there was no doubt that any child of his would be brilliant. "Do it because I need you and you're my best friend," he said and watched with amusement as Severus grimaced at the implied affection in the words. "Don't scowl at me. You _are _my best friend."

"You spend too much time with your Gryffindor," Severus said. "You've gone soft."

There was a glint in Regulus's grey eyes and he smirked deviously. "She's pregnant with my heir," he said smugly. "I think I've clearly proven that I'm _anything _but soft."

Severus cringed and Regulus laughed. He wouldn't let his friend get him down today. He had spent a full month in a maddening mood at school trying to adjust to the prospect of fatherhood at such a young age. Because of his stress, he'd gotten into three separate fights and was nearly kicked off of the Quidditch team when he abandoned the Snitch, mid-game, to barrel into a Hufflepuff Beater and punch him in the teeth for accidentally sending a Bludger too close to the Gryffindor stands.

But now he was happy. It was a strange feeling.

"The longer I know you, the more like your brother you appear," Severus said. "I dislike it."

"You're impossible," Regulus sighed impatiently. "Do you want to be godfather or not?"

Severus took a full two minutes of silent contemplation to answer. "I refuse to change nappies."

Regulus snorted. "That's what house-elves are for."

"Then I accept."

Trying not to show his great relief, Regulus reached into his pocket for his wand and, with it in hand, clasped forearms with his friend. "Will you, Severus Tobias Snape, accept the position and title of godfather to the child of Regulus Arcturus Black?" he asked. "Will you care for and guide my child in the walks of life and . . ." he paused as his focus was brought to their matching Dark Marks. "In my absence, will you teach them, protect them, and do all that you can to assure their safety?"

"I will."

A bright gold light wrapped around their clasped arms, sealing the oath and promise before slowly fading away. Regulus let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Severus."

The irritable man gave a curt nod and then gestured to the cottage. "Shall we get this over with now? Some of us have work to do."

They walked back inside the cottage and Regulus smiled at the sight of Marlene standing beside Professor McGonagall, both wearing lovely dress robes though he would have preferred they not been red. A Ministry official stood beside McGonagall, looking nervously at Severus who had clearly threatened the man about something in order to get him there.

When Minerva and Severus tied Regulus and Marlene's hands together, the Ministry official smiled at them and began the binding spell as Regulus started their pre-written vows:

"I give to you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine," he said.

Marlene smiled sweetly at him. "Yours shall be the only name I cry into the night, and in the morning I will smile for your eyes only."

"I will be a shield for your back, my wand and magic to serve and protect you always."

"No grievous words shall be spoken between us, for our love is sacred and pure."

Regulus smirked. "Even if we are not."

After she was done chuckling at his joke, she let out a soft sigh and said, "I will give you children."

He frowned. "And I will keep them safe," he said, his promise heavy with worry.

"Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honour you."

"And I you," he said, bringing their tied hands to his lips, placing a kiss on the tips of her fingers. "Through this life, and the next."

Much like the golden light emitted between he and Severus just outside minutes earlier, a soft glow pulsed around the couple, the cords tying their hands together shifted colours and the Ministry official smiled brightly. "Congratulations, I pronounce you both bonded for life!"

Regulus grinned and kissed her, ignoring the irritable sigh that escaped Severus from behind him, and the clearing of McGonagall's throat from beside Marlene. Nothing could distract him from kissing his wife for the first time. His untied hand, however, drifted south and gently rested against the slight bump of her abdomen. As he kissed his beautiful bride, he made silent vows to his unborn child, promising protection, above all else, in addition to making sure that they never grew up with parents like his.

"_Obliviate_," Severus whispered, wand pointed at the Ministry official. "You can handle the clean up, can't you Professor?" he said, looking at Minerva who was now glaring at him.

Regulus broke the kiss and turned back to look at Severus. "Make sure that marriage license goes missing," he said. It needed to be official, of course, for the child to be considered legitimate and certain protection spells to apply, but a paper trail was a bad idea.

"Don't your parents have a family tapestry?" Severus asked.

Regulus grinned. "Already taken care of," he said smugly.

When he'd come home that week for Easter hols, he smiled when his parents stepped out for a Ministry function, eager to throw Galleons at causes they wanted to see flourish, usually ones that opposed the rights of Muggle-borns, half-breeds, and anything else that could help ease the Wizarding world into the future. The moment they stepped through the fireplace, Regulus whipped out the book his uncle Alphard gave him years earlier when he'd been given the family ring. It was meant to help restore Sirius and Andromeda to the tapestry when the time came, but now Regulus had other plans for it. Keeping new names off.

"You've altered the magic on a family tapestry?" McGonagall asked with an impressed tone.

He nodded. "It won't show Marlene's name or our child's. Not until I take over the family estate and change it myself."

"Blood Magic?" she asked.

"Blood seals it and blood awakens it."

Marlene's eyes widened. "You're going to make our baby bleed to change a tapestry?"

"Of course not," he said, offended. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't even need the tapestry once I'm the Head of my House. And if we eventually want to lift the charm it only takes a small amount of blood. _Sealing _the damn thing, however . . . that took a bit more effort," he said, his voice tense as he remembered the amount of his own blood he'd been forced to spill on the floor of the room in order to cast the difficult glamour.

"That's quite the impressive charm work, Mister Black," Professor McGonagall said.

Regulus smirked. "Perhaps. I've always been better at Transfigurations."

She shrugged. "You do well enough."

"Thank you again, Professor," Marlene said as she hugged the older witch. "We'll see you back at Hogwarts?"

"Take care, my dear girl," Minerva said and then turned to Regulus. "And you keep her safe, do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you . . ." The older witch turned to glower at Severus. "Sort out your life and stop wasting your potential young man," she said in a scolding tone before Disapparating away, taking the Ministry official with her.

Severus scoffed loudly. "Gods am I pleased I don't have to go back to Hogwarts and put up with _that _ever again," he exclaimed.

"Thank you for coming, Severus," Regulus said, taking his friend's hand and shaking it in gratitude.

Severus nodded. "I'll be in touch," he said and then Disapparated.

Marlene rushed into Regulus's arms, squealing in delight that they'd miraculously gotten away with eloping. She was pregnant, they were still in Hogwarts, he was a Death Eater and they were in the middle of a nasty war, but they were strangely happy in this moment. "Are you sure we have time together?" she asked nervously, glancing down at his arm as though he could be called away from her at any moment.

"Absolutely," he said and kissed her forehead. "Mother thinks I'm off doing work for the Dark Lord, and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," he said with a chuckle, "is under the impression that I'm returning to Hogwarts. I only had to see him yesterday."

Marlene frowned. "He didn't make you do anything terrible, did he?"

He shook his head. "Not this time. And never again," he promised as he pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and cherishing this moment of peace. "Don't worry, he just needed to borrow my house-elf."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I'm currently on vacation and unable to edit so if there are any mistakes I'll have to fix them when I get home. Hope everyone is having an awesome week!

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Sixteen

_Mendax_

* * *

**January 1997**

Despite fighting the urge to get up and run away as fast as she could before he could break her heart, Hermione had remained in the Room of Requirement with Draco, pulled against him, their bodies completely aligned. The lead up to having sex with him had been anxiety ridden. They had spent months secretly snogging in dark corridors and alcoves, a few broom closets and the occasional grope beneath the Quidditch stands and there was the one time where he had enthusiastically licked her in the prefect's bathroom showers until she saw stars. But all of that was _nothing _compared to this.

Her body was sore, but every nerve was lit up like a Christmas tree, buzzing with nervous energy that had her simultaneously living in a moment of arousal and fear. She ached in a delicious way that made her half tempted to ask him to have another go, but then she would adjust her position and feel a sting of pain and rethink the suggestion before it left her mouth. The fear, however, lingered in the silence as he rested behind her, drawing lazy circles on the skin of her back and occasionally leaning forward to kiss her bare shoulder.

Gods, she wanted to cry. It was one thing to let him kiss her that first night when she had been angry with Ron and mad at the world in general. A momentary lapse in judgement. Meeting up with him again and again she blamed on hormones — because even the great swot, Hermione Granger wasn't immune to basic human physiology.

But this . . .?

The nights were mixed with long talks where he would ramble on about the physics and aerodynamics in relation to Quidditch in a way that almost made the sport interesting. She would vent about Arithmancy and how certain variables were arguably too close to Divination for her liking, and then they would debate Ancient Rune translations and their application to both Charms and Potions. Other nights — before Harry began stalking him with the Marauder's Map — they would meet up in the prefect's bathroom and she would rub his shoulders which were always tense with stress, though he brushed off her concerns saying it was nothing more than old Quidditch injuries flaring up. He would wash her hair, obsessively twirling individual curls around his fingers as he spoke, kissing her when she was distracted and then gently poking his fingers in her ribs until she laughed. He would laugh too. She found his smile to be . . . gods, it was much preferable to the angry mask he wore when they were around other people. But he couldn't smile at her in public. Because she was a secret. His filthy secret.

And she had just slept with him.

She had lost her virginity to Draco Malfoy. The boy who called her a Mudblood when she was thirteen and teased her relentlessly for years. The boy who had hexed her teeth and wished that a basilisk would kill her when he was only twelve. Twelve! _What kind of hate does a twelve-year-old have that they could wish death upon a classmate?!_ Hermione decided that no matter how she felt about Draco Malfoy — and those feelings were exceptionally conflicted lately — she knew for a fact that she _despised _his father who had taught a twelve-year-old boy to hate.

She fell asleep in his arms and woke without him. There was, however, a note.

_H,_

_If Snape catches me out past curfew again, I'm dead. You're a prefect still and have the luxury of getting away with things. Besides, if any professor asks where you've been, just tell them that you were saving the world because Potter needed your supremely superior brain power. I left you regretfully but, knowing you, you'll likely be panicking over what happened tonight so I've left a Calming Draught on the table. _

_D_

Shaking from nerves as he had predicted, Hermione winced as she stood, noting with curiosity that he had done a Cleaning Charm on her and the floor before he had left. Awkward, but she wasn't going to complain about that. She reached for the Calming Draught, contemplated the fact that she was blindly drinking a potion that Draco Malfoy had left for her and then waited for the effects to kick in. They were almost instantaneous and she felt mildly more relaxed, but not enough that she felt the need to sleep again. The draught took the edge off, but her brain was still buzzing.

It buzzed all the way back to Gryffindor Tower where she ran into Ginny in the common room snogging Dean Thomas. Mistaking the look on her face for disapproval, Dean offered an apology to Hermione, said goodnight to Ginny and then rushed up the stairs to the boys dormitory. When Hermione silently sat down on the couch beside the redhead, she hissed in slight pain and then struggled to cover the blush that crept up her cheeks.

"'Mione?" Ginny asked with a worried look on her face. "Are you okay?"

"M'fine," Hermione said softly and then promptly burst into tears.

"Hermione . . ." Ginny pulled her friend into her arms, stroking her hand down Hermione's hair and shushing her quietly, offering generic words of comfort. "It's okay . . . it's okay . . . d-do, do you want me to go and get Harry?" she asked, not even bothering to offer to get Ron since he and Hermione were still not on speaking terms.

"No," Hermione shook her head emphatically. "Oh, gods, Harry . . . Harry can't . . . Ginny don't tell him I was crying, please? He'll ask too many questions and then get suspicious and . . ."

"Do you want to tell _me _what happened?" Ginny nervously asked. "I won't tell the boys. Witch's honour."

Before she had a chance to stop herself, Hermione blurted out the secret as though her life depended on it. "I had sex with Draco Malfoy," she said and almost instantly the weight on her shoulders eased and she let out a deep exhale on the end of a sob.

Ginny's brown eyes widened. "What? Did . . . did he —"

Hermione shook her head. "It was consensual," she assured her friend.

"Oh," Ginny said thoughtfully, her lips parted and her eyes flickering back and forth as though she were trying to figure out exactly what to say. "Well . . . umm . . . was he any good?"

Hermione laughed, cried again in Ginny's arms and confessed the whole tale. Ron purposely hurting her after the Quidditch match by using Lavender, running into Draco in the hallway and kissing him. She left out certain details like what happened in the prefect's bathroom and the one time she had given him a handjob in a corner of the dungeons that took a Notice-Me-Not Charm very well. She told her about that night and how he had been strangely sweet and oddly gentle but commanding and careful at the same time. She told her about the Calming Draught and Cleaning Spell and how he had kissed her shoulder before she fell asleep.

"Wow," Ginny said and then took several deep breaths. "That's incredible!" she added excitedly. "This is just like those awful dramatic romance books my mum reads."

Hermione frowned. "Star-crossed lovers never have happy endings, Ginny."

oOoOoOo

**September 1998**

Hermione screamed when she stormed into Gryffindor Tower to spot her friends sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. Ron and Harry turned and stared, eyes wide at their best friend as she acted more like a Black and less like a Hermione as she stomped her feet and shrieked, clutching her fists at her side and throwing a proper tantrum.

Ginny's giggle broke Hermione of her concentration and she turned and stared at the little redhead. "You!" She pointed. "Upstairs, now!" she ordered and then turned and made her way up to the girl's dorms to the room she now shared with the youngest Weasley.

Ginny shut the door behind her and cautiously made her way to the bed where she sat down and waited to see if Hermione would snap and blow something up. "'Mione? Are you okay?"

"_Sooo_ not okay," Hermione admitted angrily. She wanted to cry, but instead she found herself to be too furious to do so. She continued to pace back and forth, nervously twisting her a lock of her black hair in her fingers as she tried to figure out how to speak without screaming.

"Umm . . . do you . . . do you want me to go and maybe get Harry?" Ginny offered, knowing that sometimes the pair had a way of communicating that others just couldn't understand.

Hermione's grey eyes widened. "What?! No! Harry cannot know about this! Not yet." She moaned. "Oh, gods, Sirius is probably going to tell him though."

"Tell him what?"

"I'm . . . I'm betrothed to Malfoy."

"Holy shite!" Ginny screamed and jumped to her feet. "Holy . . . fucking hell . . . how the fucking fuck did that happen?!"

Hermione shook her head and mumbled far too quickly for Ginny to pick up on every detail. Something about parents, her father, bloody Death Eaters, Blood Magic . . . "— and the rotten ferret refuses to end it! He's going to marry me, Ginny! Why? Why would he want to marry me?" she asked angrily.

Ginny snorted. "Umm . . . because he's in love with you?"

Hermione stared at her friend incredulously. "What? Have you been hit in the head by a Bludger?"

"Many times." Ginny smirked. "Hermione, you and Draco dated last sixth year."

"That was _not _dating," Hermione insisted.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Miss Black . . . or should I say Mrs. Mal —" Hermione turned and glared. Ginny shivered. "Mother of Merlin, that Black temper sure is frightening. At least you know the worst you'll get from a Weasley blowing their top is a long-winded lecture and maybe a few fireworks in your pillow. You Blacks though . . . downright scary."

"What am I going to do?"

"Confront the little prick," Ginny suggested. "I've never really liked him, but I was okay for a while because he seemed to be nice to you when you two date — er . . . visited one another in dark rooms around the castle in secret," she said with a smirk. "But I remember the night he broke your heart. I was half-tempted to go down to the Infirmary and finish the job Harry started in Myrtle's bathroom. I don't know why he broke up with you like he did, but clearly he still has . . . whatever the ferret equivalent to feelings are. He didn't expose you to Bellatrix and he _did _take a curse for you in battle," Ginny offered. "He's likely using this betrothal contract as a way to get back into your good graces. I mean, without both of you willing to end it, it can't end, right? So he's pretty much making it so you don't have a choice but to put up with him now. It's a Slytherin way to get an a second chance with you without the risk of you telling him to sod off."

Hermione nodded her head as she chewed her thumbnail in contemplation.

Ginny grinned. "I say, why don't you make Malfoy regret the idea that he wants to marry you."

Hermione blinked and looked at her friend and then slowly mirrored her grin.

oOoOoOo

Draco sauntered into the Slytherin common room once again feeling like he was on top of the world. No longer a filthy, rotten Death Eater, nor a horrible failure. No, he was Draco Malfoy, future husband of Hermione Granger . . . er . . . Black! He had planned, of course, to eventually try and regain the girl's affections. She had been the one bright spot of an otherwise horrifying sixth year and he had thrown it all away, for a damn good reason of course. She would be dead otherwise. But he had hurt her and he knew it would take a serious amount of effort to regain her trust. Now though . . . well, now it wasn't as though he had to try very hard. All he had to do was literally refuse to break a contract and she was his.

"You look far too happy for your own good," Theo commented nervously. "That look on your face never works out for the rest of us."

Daphne, perched on Theo's thigh looked up at Draco curiously. "He looks like the cat that caught the canary."

Draco turned and grinned at his friends. "On the contrary. I'm the serpent that caught the lion," he said smugly.

"What did you do?" Pansy asked, arms crossed over her chest as she approached him. "And why do you look so happy? It's . . . unnerving. Stop it."

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said and then added, "and Blaise." He held his arms open and did a little turn, head held victoriously high. "You are looking at the future husband of one, Hermione Black."

"Granger?!" Pansy shrieked. "You're marrying Granger?! How the bloody fuck did that fucking happen?!"

"Gods, will someone Silence her?" Theo winced.

Blaise approached Draco. "How did you do it?"

Draco threw back his head and laughed. "Our parents. Or well . . . my mother and her late father, may the brilliant man rest in peace, had a marriage contract. Blood Magic like the Black family enjoyed using in the old days. Can't be broken, but can be passed from parent to child," he said with a grin.

Theo shook his head. "This is so bad."

"This is so brilliant!" Draco declared. "I don't even have to try very hard now."

"Try what?" Pansy asked. "You were actually going to try and get Granger?"

"Black," he corrected. "But yes, Granger."

"But she's a Mud —"

Draco turned and narrowed his eyes at his friend in a dangerous way that reminded everyone despite his innocence, he was still, at one point, a Death Eater. "She's not anymore. She's higher on the Sacred Twenty-Eight than you, Pansy."

Theo scoffed. "Even if she wasn't he would still be after her," he stated firmly, bringing a hand up to gently curl around Daphne's waist. "After all, he thought she was a Muggle-born when he dated her almost all of sixth year."

Pansy shrieked so high that it momentarily deafened everyone in the common room and somewhere, far across the castle, Sirius Black hissed in pain as a high-pitched sound scratched at his eardrums.

"_Silencio_!" Daphne said, aiming her wand at Pansy's mouth. "Hold her back, Greg!" she ordered her friend who immediately grabbed Pansy's arms and forced her to stand still as she glared ahead at Daphne. "Don't look at me like that," the blond witch said. "You were given fair warning. Now," she turned and calmly looked at Draco. "What's this about you dating Hermione Granger."

Draco was scowling at Theo. "We didn't date . . . per say."

"Gods, did you sleep with the witch?" Blaise asked, eyes wide.

Draco's jaw twitched. "Of course not," he lied, ignoring the way Theo's eyebrows raised to his hairline. "She's a pureblood witch that I'm engaged to. Even though her father isn't alive, Sirius Black _is _and Snape's her bloody godfather. If I preemptively touched the witch, I would be dishonoured and likely beaten to death. Which is why I didn't . . ." he said clearly, his eyes falling on Theo who was shaking his head in disappointment the same way Snape often did when Draco failed to get his Draught of Peace the right shade of turquoise.

"You didn't know she was a pureblood then, though," Blaise pointed out. "So why didn't you sleep with her? Because you thought she was a Mudblood?"

"Stop saying that," Draco hissed. "And no . . . I just . . . I was obviously busy that year," he snapped. "That's not the point. The point is, I'm going to marry Hermione Granger, or Black, whichever she wants to be called. I'm getting her back. The gods have forgiven me," he said with a tone of relief and something close to actual happiness. Then a thought occurred to him and true happiness nearly lifted him in the air. "Can you imagine how furious Potter's going to look when he finds out?" he said, unable to stop the grin from spreading.

"Do you think he'll look _that _furious?" Daphne asked, gesturing to the door to the common room where Hermione stood, glaring across the way at Draco.

The blond wizard spun to face the witch, the ends of her black hair looked nearly on fire as she strode toward him. He did his best to conceal his mild fear of her. "Hermione . . . _love_," he said with a grin. "What're you doing here? Couldn't stay away from me?"

Daphne turned and gave Theo a look, silently asking if Draco really was as stupid as this. He replied by shaking his head and sighing loudly.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione said with a frightening smile. "Didn't you pay attention to the Headmistress's speech? We're all about inter-House unity now . . . _dearest_," she hissed the word. "And I thought I would just come down and visit you . . . _sweetheart_," she said, growling, "and begin our union with unity in mind. Let's put the negativity of the past behind us, shall we? Only focus on the good moments we've shared."

Draco smirked. "I think that's very mature of —" _SMACK_! He yelped in pain and fell backwards onto his arse, clutching a hand to his nose. "Hermione!" he shouted. "I . . . I think it's broken."

"Mmm," Hermione moaned slightly. "Gods that felt almost as good as it did the first time," she said as she stepped closer toward him. "I have to say Draco . . . _honey_, that moment right there is the most pleasure I've gotten out of _any _encounter you and I have ever had together."

From the couch, Theo buried his laughter in Daphne's shoulder.

"I'm counting down the days to the wedding," Hermione said viciously and then leaned forward, placed a kiss to his forehead and then lightly tapped his cheek, sending small shocks of pain through his face. "Goodnight, _love_," she said and then smugly walked away.

"You sure you don't want to stay for a visit, Hermione?" Daphne asked sweetly.

"Please," Blaise said with a grin. "And maybe a repeat performance?" he asked as he chuckled down at Draco who was bleeding all over his robes.

Hermione smiled. "Perhaps another night. I would like to get together with you later, Daphne. I'm very new to the pureblood world and I have to admit I would much rather learn customs and traditions from a fellow witch than leave the instruction to my uncle or godfather. Have you all met them before?" she asked the Slytherins but her eyes were on Draco. "My _dear _uncle Sirius Black, supposed murderer. And my godfather, Severus Snape." She smiled when she saw Goyle shiver in the corner where he stood holding onto Pansy Parkinson's arms.

Hermione turned her slightly crazed eyes on Draco. "They're not very pleased with you," she said and then left the room, slamming the door behind her.

"I call dibs on Hermione being my new best friend!" Daphne declared excitedly.

Blaise laughed and looked down at Draco who was now laying flat on the cold stone floor, still cupping a broken nose. "Mate, you are so fucked."

oOoOoOo

Hermione returned to her room, smiling briefly at Ginny but giving no details other than to cast an obvious Healing Charm on her knuckles which had swollen just a touch. Ginny giggled. said, "This is going to be so much fun," and then rolled over in her bed to fall asleep. Hermione, on the other hand, was wide awake and on edge with adrenaline and nerves over everything that had happened that night.

Betrothed to Malfoy. She angrily looked at the stack of diaries that had belonged to her father, sitting there mixed in with her other books. Annoyed, she reached forward and grabbed a leather-bound journal at random and flipped it open. Reading the diaries had been nice at first, but chronologically doing so was causing her pain knowing that it all eventually led to the death of her father, something she was dreading as though it hadn't already happened.

Regulus Black was dead.

She'd known that long before she ever discovered that he was her father. But reading his life in this way had been emotionally draining. Like attaching herself to a fictional character in a book, learning to love them through the words. Knowing what was coming in the story of her father's life . . . she could barely turn the pages and had, instead, starting reading at random during moments when she felt she needed to connect with him.

He'd somehow, perhaps accidentally, betrothed her to Malfoy. She needed to be angry with him.

_April 13th, 1979_

_I married the love of my life in a small home left to my by Uncle Alphard that Marlene has decided to call Iliad Cottage because my sweet Helen thinks herself very clever. The cottage is small and comfortable and there are large windows in every room which offer both an advantageous view of the nothing that surrounds us, and light. Light that Grimmauld Place and even Hogwarts could never offer._

_She, too, is the light._

_She sleeps next to me, peaceful except when she starts snoring and I'm forced to cast Silencing Charms on her in order to get any rest. I don't though. Rest, that is. I watch her, worry over her and the child inside of her. My child. Gods, I've no idea what I'm doing and I hope Marlene can't see it in my eyes. All I want to do is keep her safe, keep them both safe, but my not-so-blushing bride is a bloody Gryffindor and not the Spartan Princess I tell her she is. I want to lock her away, hide her from the world, but she's too bold, too brave, too damn reckless. She hates the war and wants to fight and I'm sure that if it weren't for the baby, she'd be begging Dumbledore to let her in that stupid Order._

_What would she expect me to do if we were faced off against one another? We'd both be dead. _

_Severus, ornery arse that he is, accepted to be godfather. I feel a bit relieved there, I have to admit. He's positively insufferable, but he's nothing if not an honourable man who sticks by his word. He'll protect my child._

_Child. Baby. They. Them. It. _

_Marlene wants to be surprised when it's born and she refused to cast the charm that would tell us the baby's gender. I respect her wishes not to know. Which is why I waited until she was asleep to cast it myself._

_I'm going to have a daughter._

_A girl._

_Fuck._

_A little girl that I'm going to have to get through this war and raise up to be able to protect herself against wretched cads like Sirius. I'm dreading the prospect of tea parties and stuffed unicorns and an overabundance of pink. Gods, if she's anything like her mother I'm positively done for. _

Hermione frowned at the words because they made her want to smile, made her wish he'd lived, and she bitterly wiped away a falling tear on her cheek before turning the page.

_April 14th, 1979_

_Kreacher showed up at Iliad Cottage. _

_Marlene found him, half-dead on the front porch and her screams of terror aged me at least ten years. I'm a weary twenty-seven now, going on twenty-eight. By the time the baby is born, I'm likely to be as old and decrepit as Dumbledore. If . . . if I make it to see her born._

_Kreacher lived thanks to my brilliant wife's quick thinking and, apparently, my direct order that he should return to me when the Dark Lord was done using him for whatever he needed. This elf has suffered far too much for my sake. He woke long enough to tell me what happened. A cave, a potion, a locket. _

_This war won't end the way I need it to. _

_Not if the Dark Lord has done what I think he's done. What Kreacher tells me he's done._

_Fuck._

_Even Dumbledore can't kill him now. Not without . . . and not with . . . Fuck! _

_The Dark Lord is a stain upon this world like the Dark Mark is a stain upon my soul. I need to cleanse this world and cleanse myself. I'm not looking forward to redemption. Not if it means what I think it means._


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I'm currently on vacation and unable to edit so if there are any mistakes I'll have to fix them when I get home. Hope everyone is having an awesome week! Vacation was extended a day and my drive home will interrupt my posting schedule so I decided to post this chapter several days early. Nothing (unfortunately) will be updated again until next Wednesday at the earliest. Check out my faves list for new reading material to keep busy! Much love to you all!

Also... Sorry about this chapter.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Seventeen

_Traditio_

* * *

**May 1979**

Before Easter hols were over, Regulus returned to Grimmauld Place with a nearly healed Kreacher, allowing Marlene to go home to her parents before they would reunite at Hogwarts for the final few months of school. At least . . . that was if everything went according to plan.

Before his parents brought him to King's Cross Station for the final time, Regulus, with Kreacher's assistance, scoured the Black family heirlooms littered about the house until he stumbled upon an old locket that had been passed down through the generations.

"Gaudy thing," his mother had said. "What do you want it for?"

"Practicing transfiguration detection," he easily lied. "I'm going to change it into something more lovely in appearance and hide it among a collection of originals to see if my classmates can spot the imposter."

Walburga beamed at him and kissed his forehead. "Such a bright boy," she said and then didn't speak another word about the locket that Kreacher told Regulus resembled the one he'd seen the Dark Lord slip into a basin inside a dark cave.

The final Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw ended in their favour when Regulus caught the Snitch in record time. He could have been scolded by the captain for it considering he hadn't given his teammates a decent enough lead in points, but they'd still won the Cup by twenty and that meant celebrations were in order.

With his Housemates drunk and distracted, Regulus turned to his bedroom and shut the curtains of his four poster bed before pulling out a scrap of parchment and nervously setting the tip of his inked quill against it.

_Darling Helen,_

_I once asked you to be the person who would remind me that I was a good man. Remind me that somewhere, deep down, I remained unspoiled, untainted, unblemished. Sometimes I worry that I have allowed myself to become so very stained by my actions, forced or not. People have sobbed, bled, and died at my hand and it's only my remorse for their suffering that keeps me intact. Otherwise, I fear my soul would shatter and I would no longer be human._

_That . . . that is Dark Magic not even I would dare to play with. It's wickedness beyond comprehension._

_If you're receiving this letter, it is because your indomitable spirit and bravery have rubbed off on me over the years and I've done something incredibly stupid that will, hopefully, secure your safety for years to come. I promised you I would get out, that I would renounce the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord and I have . . . I will. But I can't sit by and wait for others to do all the hard work. Not when my family is at stake. _

_I want to be a good man, Marley. I've spent years feeling like a coward because I begged an old Hat to spare me the suffering I witnessed at the hands of my parents when my brother was given red and gold robes instead of green. What I wouldn't give now to wear those robes now as I go into battle. I would like a little courage to help along the way. To feel half the brave man I know Sirius to be. He's a reckless idiot, but he's happy. I think he's happy. I hope he's happy._

_I hope you will be happy as well. Even if I'm not there to see you smile._

_Give our daughter a strong name. Yes, daughter. I know you wanted to be surprised, but I'm a Slytherin and have a particular distaste for not knowing things immediately._

_I worry she will need a strong name. All I ask, is that you follow the Black family traditions, and allow her middle name to be called after the stars. Astra, perhaps. It means 'stars' in Latin. I looked over an Astronomy book in hopes for a name that spoke to me, but nothing was good enough, big enough, or important enough for my daughter. No star bright enough. So name her after all of the stars. _

_And tell her that her father loved desperately._

_And that he loved her mother more than there are stars in the sky._

_I go to war now, my Helen. Secret battle in the hopes I remain undetected. _

_Forgive me._

_Gods, please forgive me._

_Regulus _

He angrily wiped the back of his hand against his eyes and folded the parchment, sealed it with wax and pulled another piece out, hurrying as he wrote.

_Severus,_

_I trust only you to give this letter to my wife should I not contact you within the week. If I do, then feel free to call me an overreacting prat who has fallen prey to Gryffindor sentimentalities. If I don't, then you may think the worst. Help my mother plan my funeral and keep my wife far from it. Protect her Severus, and my daughter. _

_You have been the truest friend and I often thank the gods that I was sorted into Slytherin, if only, because I made your acquaintance. I offer few parting words to you, only that I hope you will find happiness in some form and that you will survive this war and have a chance at a better life. One where your decisions will be yours to make. _

_Ever your grateful friend,_

_Regulus_

He sealed the letters up and made his way to the owlery to have them sent, hoping that Severus was still with his Potions Master and not at Malfoy Manor or any other place where the Dark Lord was plotting his plan for world domination. And immortality. _Can't forget the immortality._

Before departing in the dead of night, Regulus pulled one more scrap of parchment and scowled down at the words as they scripted across the paper.

_To the Dark Lord,_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B._

With a shaky breath, Regulus tapped his wand on the top of his head, Disillusioning himself and speedily made for the front gates of Hogwarts. "Kreacher!" he called and smiled softly when the elf appeared before him. He removed the Disillusionment so the elf could see him and, at the sight of his master, Kreacher smiled brightly.

"Master Regulus calls for Kreacher?"

Regulus nodded. "Kreacher, I want you to take me where the Dark Lord took you. To the cave beside the sea, and beyond the cave and into the cavern you spoke of. The one with the black lake, and . . . and the island," he said the words regretfully as Kreacher began to shiver and shake.

"M-master wants Kreacher to go back?"

Regulus sighed. "Master wants Kreacher to deliver him to the cave," he said firmly and then reached a hand out for his elf to take.

"Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black," he croaked and gratefully took Regulus's hand, Disapparating them both away, far, far away from Hogwarts.

oOoOoOo

At first sight, the cave looked like a moving painting, glowing in the moonlight. A cool breeze brushed against his skin and left gooseflesh behind in its wake. Regulus looked down from the cliff where he stood to see jagged rocks below, the foaming water churning and crashing against the outcrop of sharp stones. Regulus immediately began to climb down, ignoring the pleas from Kreacher who called out in worried tones as Regulus descended the rocks with determination.

When he reached the water, Regulus placed a hand down and withdrew it quickly, shocked from the icy temperatures. "Kreacher, Apparate us into the cave," he instructed the elf. _No need to freeze to death before I finish the task_, he thought to himself.

When Regulus opened his eyes again after Kreacher took his hand, he looked around the dark cave and quickly removed his wand from the pocket of his robes. "_Lumos_," he whispered and looked around the moss slicked walls of the cave, curiously noting that the cavern Kreacher spoke of was not to be seen. "Kreacher, where next?" he asked.

The elf hesitated.

"Kreacher, you will take me to the cavern with the black lake," he ordered.

Kreacher worried his hands together before nodding slowly and then moving toward a wall on the opposite side from where Regulus stood. "It asks for blood," Kreacher whispered, touching his hand to the stone.

Regulus followed Kreacher to the other side and placed his hand on the stone as well and sighed. "Blood Magic," he muttered. "Always Blood Magic." He held out the palm of his hand and aimed his wand at the skin. "_Diffindo_," he said and hissed when the magic cut through his flesh and blood began to pool in the center of his hand. "As though I haven't spilled enough blood in his name," he said bitterly under his breath before throwing the fist full of blood at the rocks and watching as a flash of silver reflected for a moment before an outline of an arch appeared.

When he silently walked into the darkness to eventually come to the edge of a black lake, lit only by a misty green glow in the center, reflecting off of the completely still water. Regulus's hands were shaking with terror as he stared down at the unmoving water, afraid to get too close because he knew what was lurking beneath.

"Dead hands," Kreacher whispered, pointing to the still lake.

"Don't touch the water," he instructed the elf who obeyed immediately by backing away and walking toward a narrow footpath along the edge of the cavern. Regulus carefully followed. "There is a boat, Master Regulus," Kreacher whispered, "buried in the waters there," he said and pointed a long gnarled finger several feet away.

"I say we avoid the water at all costs, don't you agree, Kreacher?" Regulus asked anxiously and Kreacher nodded.

"Kreacher will take Master to the island," he said and then took Regulus's hand once more, Apparating them directly in front of the green glowing basin.

Regulus looked down into the basin at the luminescent emerald liquid and swallowed down hard. Be brave like Sirius, he thought over and over as he reached a hand out to touch the potion that Kreacher had told him about. When his fingers came in contact with nothing, Regulus frowned in confusion and looked down to see the elf holding a small crystal cup that had likely been left behind from the last time he'd been on this very island.

"Kreacher, give that to me," he said and held out his hand.

Kreacher shook his head and held the cup tight in his grip. "Kreacher mustn't," he said firmly.

Regulus sighed in irritation. His courage was fading fast. "Kreacher, I order you to give me that cup," he said and watched as the elf fought and fought to hold onto the cup, but still held it out in the end. Regulus frowned at the sight, especially when tears started falling from the old elf's large eyes. Regulus took the cup and set it down beside the basin then turned to kneel down in front of the small elf.

"Kreacher," he said and reached out to take the elf's hand in his own. "I'm not going to let you suffer anymore for my sake," he promised. "_I'm_ going to drink this potion —"

"No!" Kreacher wailed. "Master mustn't! It burns the insides! It burns!"

Regulus started shaking again at the description Kreacher was giving him as to what the potion inside the basin did to a person, or at least an elf, when they drank it. _Be brave like Sirius_, he thought again and closed his eyes to focus on that thought, allowing it to guide him.

"Kreacher be quiet!" he snapped angrily and waited for silence to fill the cave once again before speaking. "I'm going to drink the potion," he said and waited to see if Kreacher was going to interrupt him once more. When the elf remained silent save for a few sniffles here and there, Regulus sighed. "And you're going to make sure I drink it all. When it's empty, I need you to grab the locket from the bottom of the basin, switch it with this one," he said and held out the old Black family heirloom, "and then Disapparate back to Grimmauld Place."

The elf shook his head. "Kreacher will not leave his Master behind."

"Kreacher will do as he is told," Regulus said firmly. "Because he is a good elf," he said, his voice softer. "And it would make his master very happy to see that the good elf leave this horrid place and never return. I do not plan to die here, Kreacher," he said. "But if at any point I tell you to leave, you will do so. You will return to Grimmauld Place, destroy that locket by any means necessary, and speak not a word to the family. Do not tell my mother, not even if she orders you. Do you understand?"

Kreacher reached up and took hold of the end of one ear and nervously tugged on it. "Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of —"

"Kreacher lives to serve Master Regulus," Regulus clarified. "Who is the heir of the Noble House of Black. Correct?"

Kreacher took a moment to think about the words and then he slowly nodded his large head. "Kreacher lives to serve Master Regulus."

"Now, what are your orders?"

The elf swallowed and then reached out, taking the Black locket from Regulus's hands. "Kreacher is to watch Master drink the burning potion that shows him terrible things, and when Master has drank it all up, Kreacher snatches and switches lockets. Then . . . then . . ." he hesitated. "Then Kreacher waits for Master to tell him to leave. Then he goes back to his home and destroys the locket and speaks not to his Mistress."

Regulus nodded. "Good," he said and then stood up and looked down at the glowing potion. "Fuck," he muttered and dipped the crystal cup into the liquid, watching as it swirled inside. "Please taste like firewhisky," he pleaded quietly before bringing the potion to his lips and swallowed it down as quickly as possible. It didn't taste like firewhisky.

It tasted like _fire_.

Regulus hissed in pain as the burn swept through his mouth, down his throat and coated everything inside of him. He clutched at his side and propped himself against the basin for support. He felt something touch him and turned to see Kreacher, terrified, gently stroking his arm the way the old elf used to do whenever Regulus and Sirius were sick when they were very young, long before the trouble of Hogwarts Houses and blood-traitor statuses meant anything within the walls of Number Twelve.

"Kreacher stays with Master," the elf crooned softly and continued petting Regulus's arm.

As quickly as he could, Regulus dunked the cup back into the potion and drank it down, hissing, coughing, choking each time he forced himself to swallow. Regulus gasped for breath, the fire inside of him burning hot with each new gulp and every additional swallow. His eyes closed and he slumped forward against the basin, slipping down until he was lying on the stone island, his arms curled in around his stomach, his body shaking.

His vision blurred before his eyes and instead of a large black lake with still water, he saw Sirius's old bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Instead of darkness, a glowing potion in the basin above him and Kreacher sobbing at his side, he saw Sirius, laying there in a pool of blood.

"No . . . Sirius . . . " Regulus groaned. "D-don't . . . can't let him die . . ." he said, his voice shaking as the fire continued to burn. "Get up . . . Sirius get up . . ."

"Master," Kreacher said, hovering over Regulus's body and weeping great big tears that fell, dampening Regulus's cheeks and neck.

"Kreacher . . . save him . . . save . . ." Regulus blinked a few times, his vision pulling back into focus. "Kreacher," he swallowed and cleared his throat. "Help me up."

The elf did as he was told and helped to prop Regulus back up against the basin where he thrust his hand and the crystal cup back into the potion. "Kreacher . . . do not let me stop drinking this. Do not!" he yelled and Kreacher flinched in response but nodded his head quickly, his ears flapping with the movement as he watched, horrified, as Regulus quickly drank down two more cups full of the potion before letting out a yell of agony and falling to his knees.

"Be brave like Sirius," he sobbed, not even feeling when his knees hit the stone below, something cracking, a bone likely. The pain in his chest and stomach hurt beyond words and his vision blurred again. "Brave like . . . like . . ."

"Sirius?" a voice spoke and Regulus looked up to see Marlene standing there before him, a babe in her arms wrapped in soft fleece, its face hidden from view. "How can you be brave like Sirius?" her voice asked. Regulus knew it was a mirage, a vision of things that were not real, but the desire to see the child's face was so great he could hardly remind himself that the image was false.

"Marley . . ."

"You're not brave like Sirius. Sirius Black is not a murderer," she said and scowled at him. "Look at the blood on your hands, Reggie."

Regulus looked down at his hands and, sure enough, they were bathed in blood. He choked at the sight, feeling like he was drowning, unaware that beyond the forced vision he was having, Kreacher was following orders and slipping the potion down his throat. "No, no, no," Regulus sobbed as he tried desperately to wipe the blood from his hands off on his robes, but it was stained upon his skin like the Dark Mark.

"I didn't . . . I didn't . . ."

"Didn't murder people?" Marlene asked. "You did."

"I didn't know how to say no. They . . . they would have killed you . . . killed Sirius . . ." he looked up at the child in Marlene's arms. "They'll kill her."

"So other lives are worth destroying to save us?"

"YES!" Regulus growled loudly and began choking again as Kreacher tipped another cup full of the potion down his throat. The fire burned and the blood on his hands remained and Marlene looked down at him with pity.

"Master must swallow," Kreacher whispered in Regulus's ear. "Master must drink. He told Kreacher so. Almost done. Almost gone."

Regulus looked out and upon the black still waters stood a crowd of lifeless faces. His victims. The Muggle girls he and Severus first killed when they'd taken the Dark Mark. "No," he shook his head. "We had to! They would have . . . it would have been so much worse for you if . . ." he muttered softly as the corpses stepped closer to him. Men and women and . . . and the children of the Ministry worker that Lucius was too cowardly to kill himself. "Macnair . . . what he would have done to you . . ." he sobbed, pleading for forgiveness, his soul racked with remorse.

"It's gone!" Kreacher shouted with delight. "Master it's gone. Kreacher has it!"

Regulus gasped as the vision of Marlene hovered above the water, his victims just behind her. "Thirsty . . ."

"What am I supposed to tell her, Reggie?" Marlene asked. "When she asks about you?"

Regulus crawled achingly slow toward the water, desperate for something to drown out the fire inside of him. "Tell her . . ."

"Master!" Kreacher shouted from behind him and Regulus could feel something tugging at his robes, pulling him away from the water.

"Tell her . . ." he said, looking up at the mirage of Marlene. "That I tried."

He felt the tips of his fingers touch icy cold water and he yearned to drink from it, to ease the burn inside. Before he could form his hand into a cup to take a drink though, something grabbed him and his eyes widened.

"Dead hands!" Kreacher screamed and Regulus tried to move back, but more hands broke the surface of the water and gripped his robes, tugging and pulling and dragging him closer.

Regulus yelled for help but turned in time to see Kreacher clutching tightly to the switched locket and he was reminded of why he'd gone there. _Brave like Sirius_, he thought and then screamed, "Kreacher go!" as the hands on his body pulled him into the water.

Kreacher's wail filled his ears just as he was pulled beneath the surface of the water. His eyes opened and widened at the sight he was met with. Inferi; an army of the dead standing as guard dogs for the Dark Lord's treasure. He felt the tiniest bit of smugness knowing that despite all of this, he'd robbed the Dark Lord — _Voldemort!_ — of his Horcrux, despite the many obstacles he'd put in place. That feeling of victory was overpowered by blinding fear and Regulus fought against the hands that held onto him, kicked and scratched until he broke the surface of the water again, gasping for breath.

His eyes turned toward the island to see that Kreacher was gone, as ordered.

And then the weight of his enemies was too heavy. Their strength too great to fight against. As the cold water enveloped him once more and stole the breath from his lungs, Regulus closed his eyes and tried to find a good thought to cling to. Something to fill him up and take away the fear. Something strong enough that could summon a Patronus if he knew how. A good memory. A good thought.

All he could think of was her. A babe in Marlene's arms wrapped in fleece.

Something worth dying for.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I'm back from vacation. It was long and exhausting and I'm still adjusting to being back. Touching a computer keyboard was legitimately weird. I never want to leave home again LOL. Going to try and answer as many questions as I can.

Q&amp;As - **lmm2369**, Snape was still an arse to Hermione because she was Gryffindor and he had a role to play. Also, he's Snape and is generally a surly individual. **ChizomenoHime**, my thoughts for Draco's bratty attitude (and honestly, a lot of the other younger characters as well) is that they were forced to grow up in the horrible conditions of war that they are now free from and are back in the setting of their childhood and are kind of reverting a little on the maturity front. Their coping skills are lacking. Basically facing awkward marriage contracts pales in comparison to death and Dark Lords. **Chester99**, just because Draco said she broke his nose, doesn't mean she actually did. He's super dramatic. Her hitting him was a reckless thing (Gryffindor AND a Black though) but then again Draco literally holding her hostage in a marriage contract isn't the most mature thing either. They're both very damaged and not handling it well at all. It gets worse. Though in my hopes, it becomes a bit more amusing and in a harmless fun kind of way. **sallymact**, Oh, Draco definitely will have to work to get back into her good graces. She'll have to learn to adjust as well though. **just because u said so**, Helen is a reference to Helen of Troy which is how Regulus refers to Marlene since they fell in love. **Delancey654 **and **dragonjun,** How Hermione ended up with Muggles will definitely be explained and possibly viewed through someone's POV. I haven't written it yet though.

If I forgot to answer your question or failed to respond (and you really wanted me to) hit me up on Twitter or Tumblr (both usernames: shayalonnie)

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Eighteen

_Traditio_

* * *

**September 1998**

"So, no accepting gifts from other wizards, no public displays of affection with men that aren't considered family, even though —" Hermione began.

"I told you," Daphne said with a shrug, "things are different in the Wizarding world. Magic kind of accounts for a lot of things and extended relations just happen to be one of them."

Hermione sighed loudly. "And all my affections with Draco have to be chaste, at least publicly," she said with a roll of her eyes. As if that was going to happen — again. "It all seems so very . . . old fashioned, and not in a classy way. It feels like it gives men the right to do as they wish and women are shoved in the corner to appear prim and proper."

Daphne shrugged. "That, essentially, is how it works."

"How can you stand it?" Hermione asked, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, glad that she had a free period that morning and was able to arrange the meeting with Daphne before lunch to go over the pureblood customs that she really, really did not want to learn from Sirius who was more than likely to bungle it up considering how much he hated them himself. She, however, had a typically Hermione-need and desire to learn this new thing being placed in front of her and excel at it to prove a point to everyone who was waiting for her to fail. "Is your contract the same as mine?"

Daphne shook her head. "No, Blood Magic contracts went out of style decades ago. If your father wasn't a Black, I'd have been shocked that he was involved in one when he was younger to be honest. Mine with Theo's is very typical these days. All based on political alliances and money."

"And you're sure you can't get out of it?" Hermione asked, disliking the idea of her new Slytherin friend having her life choices taken away from her. Daphne had been more help to her in the past few days in regards to her new status as a pureblood than Sirius and Snape had been in the past five months. Between the little hints in her father's diaries and Daphne's education, Hermione was ready to know everything she needed to.

Daphne smiled. "I could get out of it if I wanted to," she said and then shrugged. "I don't want to. He's good and stuck with me."

"Gladly," Theo said as he approached the table with Blaise, leaning forward to kiss Daphne's cheek. "How are you, love?" he asked her and then looked to Hermione. "And Miss Black, are you joining us for lunch this afternoon? We do so enjoy your company."

"Dinner _and _a show," Blaise said and winked as he sat down beside Hermione though she noted it was almost precisely two feet away, as per the custom. "Can I get ringside seat for the next time you break Draco's face?"

Hermione smirked. "Where is his royal pointiness?" she asked.

"Meeting with Snape," Theo answered. "He looked properly terrified on his way. We'll all be delighted to hear what happened. Though, he'll likely lie about it."

"Theo," Hermione said quietly, "how old were you and Daphne when your contract was signed? She's teaching me about the pureblood customs, but I've come to realise that my circumstances are quite unusual."

He nodded in reply. "Very unusual. Daphne and I were contracted over Yule during our first year."

Hermione's eyes widened. "First year?! You were eleven!"

Daphne smiled. "It _would _have been done when we were toddlers. In fact, Draco was originally set to marry me but his father supposedly thought that I'd be a distraction in school and so they opted to contract him to my little sister instead so that they wouldn't have classes together," she explained to the shock of Hermione who clearly hadn't known about Draco's previous engagement to Astoria Greengrass.

Hermione shook her head. "That's despicable."

Blaise smirked. "That's tradition."

"It's still horrible," she said sharply. "So why wait until first year then?" she asked, looking back at Daphne while Blaise and Theo poured everyone pumpkin juice. Hermione noted that while Theo placed Daphne's glass directly in front of her, Blaise poured the drink for Hermione and then gestured to it for her to take, as it was an intimate thing to be "gifted" food from a pureblood wizard. Just another strange custom where her interaction with wizards was archaically limited.

"Theo's father wanted to make sure I was Sorted into Slytherin," Daphne admitted.

Shocked by the House prejudice, though she shouldn't have been, Hermione leaned over and smacked Theo on the arm as though it were his fault. He laughed at her outburst, clearly grateful that he didn't fall into the same category as Draco when it came to the little witch's penchant for violence. "Don't take it out on me," he said. "I didn't specify the Slytherin requirement. I was more worried about what House the Hat would put _me _in. Didn't take into consideration where it would send Daphne."

"I was almost sorted into Ravenclaw actually. I nearly had a hat stall," the blonde said.

"I think I remember that," Hermione said thoughtfully. "The hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw too, but I wanted to be in Gryffindor," she said and watched in amusement as the two wizards cringed at the very thought. "It takes your choice into account, did you know that?"

Daphne smiled. "I assumed considering where I ended up."

"So why not Ravenclaw?" Hermione asked. "Why did you voluntarily pick Slytherin?"

"Because of Theo," Daphne said and her smile softened as he leaned forward and kissed her temple.

Hermione smiled sadly at the pair who seemed so well put together, an arrangement that actually made sense unlike the buggering mess that she was apparently stuck in. She sighed and drank from her glass, giving a quick nod of thanks to Blaise. "So . . . I have a . . . a personal question," she said nervously. "If most of the Slytherins are betrothed by the time they get to Hogwarts, well . . . I mean to say, I've heard . . . rumours."

Blaise grinned. "That we're all sex gods?"

Hermione winced but then, at the look of smugness on his face, she sat up straighter and smirked. "Not _all _of you," she said, implying that Blaise wasn't one of the wizards she'd heard about over the years when, in fact, he was the _main _cause of gossip. Theo and Draco as well, though they weren't spoken of as often or in as much detail.

"While I can't speak in details really," Theo said, clearing his throat, "especially with Blaise grinning like that. It puts us all off our appetites," he admitted. "The rumours are essentially true."

Hermione stared at him. "How . . . you've _cheated _on Daphne?"

He quirked a confused eyebrow and looked to the blonde. "I thought you've been teaching her about pureblood customs."

Daphne shrugged. "Hermione, it's tradition that a wife is to be entered into a betrothal contract pure and intact; it's her gift to her husband."

Hermione's grey eyes nearly turned red and she scoffed, a disgusted look on her face. "Please," she said with incredulity, "virginity is nothing but a social construct that furthers the notion that women are property, belonging either to their father or husband. It's archaic.

"It's tradition," all three Slytherins said at the same time.

"Fine," she said, shaking off the thought that she could persuade these three to think otherwise. "So, if she's willing to give you something so damn precious, what exactly do _you _give _her_?" she asked Theo, her tone implying that she was eager to attack if his answer did not please her.

Blaise answered for him. "A good time. Ow!" he said, laughing when Hermione turned and hit him in the arm.

"He's not being crude," Theo said. "Well, he _is_, but he's not wrong. It's customary that at a certain age, pureblood males are expected to bed as many women as possible to well . . . in simple terms, improve their technique."

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"I prefer looking at it as _refining _my technique," Blaise said with a grin. "I hardly needed any improvement from the get go."

"That's . . . disgusting," Hermione said, making a face. "How on earth could you just have sex with a bunch of other girls when you're set to marry another?"

Theo, who was curling a lock of Daphne's long blond hair between two fingers didn't look as smug as Blaise did. "Honestly, it's a tradition we're told about right around the time we start noticing witches. Fathers usually take their sons aside and tell them what's allowed and what's not allowed. We're all fairly certain that it was some randy arsehole who came up with the idea because his future bride didn't want to bed him. Granted, we were all young and stupid enough not to care ourselves at the time. After we grow up a bit, it usually starts to calm down," he admitted. "And then we feel like shite about it," he said, his eyes turning to Daphne who was strangely smirking as though she were proud to see her wizard in a humbled and contrite position.

"What do you mean _usually _calms down?" Hermione asked.

Theo gestured to Blaise who winked at her.

She rolled her eyes and turned away from the lothario entirely. "And girls are just fine with marrying men who'd had sex with the majority of half-bloods in other Houses?" she asked. Because of course they would have to be half-bloods. No pureblood would sully themselves with a Muggle-born lest their prejudiced parents find out, and they couldn't bed other purebloods due to the witches being contracted to others. The only exception would likely be blood-traitors. Hermione was still thoroughly disgusted though mildly pleased that at least Theo appeared repentant of his brief sordid past.

"Well," Daphne said thoughtfully, "I assume at this point he's pretty good at it."

Shocked by the admission, Hermione actually laughed.

"It wasn't _that _many girls for me," Theo admitted, slightly blushing. "Just enough to embarrass myself and then . . . _not _embarrass myself," he said, shrugging.

Hermione turned and glanced at Blaise.

"_So_ very many," he answered. "I'm properly disgusting. You've a right to cringe in my general direction," he said, though his tone implied he was nothing if not incredibly proud of himself. "I've been with so many girls I've had to start classifying them in colours. Purple, for instance, is very clingy," he said with a smirk and a nod of his head toward the Gryffindor table where Lavender was sitting down to lunch next to Parvati.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock that the Slytherin deviant had bedded her dorm mate.

"I've never tried Black before," he said and waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly.

She shook her head incredulously, wondering how fast he would run away from her if she actually flirted back. Blaise was wretched, but she imagined he was well behaved in his own customs not to actually entrench on another wizard's territory as it were. "Dare I ask what your favourite colour is?" she hesitantly questioned.

Blaise smirked at her, his eyes twinkling. "Red."

Hermione stared at him questioningly and slowly her eyes began to widen again. "No," she said quietly.

"No?" Blaise said questioningly. "Strange. I remember hearing many repeats of 'yes' myself."

Hermione jumped to her feet as she spotted Ginny walking into the Great Hall. "I have to go," she said and took a breath, purposely avoiding making eye contact with Blaise. "Daph, we'll talk again soon?" she asked and the blonde nodded her head with a smile.

The little witch nearly tackled Ginny at the Gryffindor table and dragged her back out from the Great Hall into a private corner where she threw up a _Muffliato_. "Did you have sex with Blaise Zabini?" she demanded of her friend.

Ginny blushed bright red.

"Oh my gods!" Hermione shouted. "Ginny . . . did you know that pureblood boys like him are basically told to sleep around as much as possible? It's like a disgusting sexual education and training!"

Her friend smirked at her. "Well, I'd like to say that I gave him an 'O' for his efforts, but that seems like a cheap joke and I should be able to come up with something better than that."

oOoOoOo

Hermione spent an hour crying in the prefect's bathroom wondering if it was possible that Draco had used her the same way that Blaise and Theo used other girls. _Used_, she sighed and admitted silently to herself, was a bit of an exaggeration. Even the daftest of girls at Hogwarts knew _exactly _what they were getting into when they bedded Blaise Zabini. As for Theo, he looked genuinely remorseful for whatever past he had and considering how polite he usually was, she had to wonder if whatever girls he'd been with before hadn't ended up with bouquets of purple hyacinths and white poppies along with a beautifully eloquent note of apology for his behaviour.

What had she gotten when Draco ended their . . . relationship? No, he'd apparently been betrothed to Daphne's sister at the time. Affair. _Yes_. _Affair_. When Draco ended their _affair_, all she'd gotten was a "Fuck off, Mudblood," and a murdered Headmaster weeks later with Draco and her apparent godfather behind it all.

When she was empty of tears she returned to Gryffindor Tower, snatched up her book bag which now included a few of her father's diaries, and headed down to Hagrid's hut where she had asked her friends to meet her to give them the "good" news. She'd rather be as far away from the castle as possible, perhaps back in London, but she knew that the gentle half-giant would be a good peacekeeper when it came to informing Harry and Ron that she was set to marry Draco Malfoy unless she could convince him to pass the cursed contract down to their future children and become in-laws with the boy instead.

She approached the hut and a bright smile came to her as she was met at the gate of the pumpkin patch with a familiar face. She bowed her head low and then grinned when the hippogriff trotted forward, pushing his beak into her palm and nuzzling her gently. "What are you doing here, Buckbeak?" she sweetly asked the creature who made a throaty chirping noise in reply.

"We're sticking around for a while," a voice called from the doorway of Hagrid's hut and Hermione smiled at the sight of Sirius standing there in . . .

"Sirius, why're you wearing professor's robes?" she asked curiously, patting Buckbeak on the top of his head before she walked through the path up to the door to her uncle.

He grinned down at her. "McGonagall asked me to hang back," he said. "Implementing a lot of changes in the school this year and she didn't have much time to find a replacement for her Advanced Transfiguration class. I get to share a room with Remus like old times," he added with the brightest of grins. "I specifically requested that stipulation. He doesn't know about it yet."

"You're going to teach Advanced Transfiguration?" she asked skeptically.

He furrowed his brows and made an offended noise. "I'm quite skilled at it, you know," he said. "I managed to fully become an Animagus before I fully became a man."

Hermione made a face. "Didn't need to know that."

Sirius nodded. "Harry complained too," he admitted with a chuckle. "I'll only be around until she finds someone better, or in her words, 'Someone who won't send me to St. Mungo's'," he said in a mocking tone with a mischievous grin. "I've been meaning to bring Buckbeak back to Hagrid for a while. It's not fair to keep him cooped up in that rotten house." He smiled when the large creature trotted over to him and lightly nipped at his shoulder until he put an arm around the great beast. "I think he's going to miss me."

"I bet he's missed flying," she said and then smiled at her uncle. "I bet _you've _missed the fresh air as well."

He nodded. "It'll be good to be back at Hogwarts. It was always home for me. Plus, I get to be close to you and Harry and that's the most important part of my life right now."

Hermione frowned. "Are you going to behave?" she asked him.

He scoffed. "What? Because of Malfoy?"

"Because of Severus."

Sirius pouted. "I can't believe my brother made that git your godfather instead of me."

She reached into her book bag and withdrew one of Regulus's diaries. "Read this," she said. "I'm done with that one, but it explains everything from you leaving Grimmauld Place up to the point where Peter Pettigrew purposely revealed Regulus's Dark Mark, likely to separate the two of you. I think he wanted to switch sides at that point," she told him.

Sirius frowned and stared down at the book in his hands. He looked like he wanted to make a joke, a defence mechanism. He looked like he wanted to run and hide but instead he swallowed hard and quietly admitted, "I don't know how to handle this. I spent twelve years blaming myself for James and Lily's deaths . . ."

"_You_ didn't kill my father," Hermione told him. "Voldemort did."

Sirius sighed and shook his head in shame. "I could have helped him. I _should _have helped him."

"You helped _me_." She smiled and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him tight until he squeezed her back. "Harry brought me to Grimmauld Place and you were there for me when I needed you. You didn't run off to Malfoy Manor to confront Bellatrix for what she did to me. You stayed with me. I think . . ." she paused and swallowed down her growing emotions, "I think my father would have wanted that."

Sirius nodded. "Thank you, Hermione."

"Can you do me a favour and make sure that Harry and Ron don't do something stupid when they find out about Draco?" she asked him. "Neither of them are very . . . level headed when it comes to him, and even if they mean well, I'm expecting this to go poorly."

He smiled down at her. "Got no choice. I'm a professor now. Have to issue detentions and . . . take away points and . . . shite."

She cringed at his language. "This is going to be a long year," she said, trying not to smirk at him when he laughed as the pair walked into Hagrid's hut smiling at the faces of Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Hagrid himself.

"Blimey!" the half-giant said as Hermione took a seat between Ginny and Sirius, taking in her new colouring. "Ye look just like yer dad! Surprised I never saw it m'self," he said, scratching at his beard. "Course, I s'pose the glamour was put for that reason. Still," he said. "Good bloke yer dad was," he added, nodding his large head. "Slytherin, sure, but right smart he was. There was some . . . er . . . trouble I know he got into but," and he turned to look at Sirius, "I guess them Black brothers always were a bit misunderstood."

"No harm done, Hagrid," Sirius said and patted the half-giant on the shoulder. "But speaking of Regulus," he said and looked at Hermione. "Do you want _me _to tell them?"

Hermione shook her head and then reached out for Ginny's hand for support. The action was immediately caught by Neville and Luna, but ignored by Harry and Ron who were too nervous to notice small things like that.

"What's going on 'Mione?" Ron asked. "Sirius said something happened? Something about that note McGonagall sent you?"

"First, I need you all to remain calm," Hermione said and when Harry's eyes widened she added, "Please."

He nodded slowly and furrowed his brows together. "Whatever it is, Hermione, we're here for you."

"It turns out . . . that my father was once involved in a marriage contract that was sealed with Blood Magic," she told them and watched as both Ron and Neville's eyes widened in understanding, Harry only reacting later to mimic the shock of his pureblood friends. "I know," Hermione said with a sigh, "things like that haven't been done in regular families for nearly a century, but apparently the Blacks did," she said and looked to Sirius who was nodding his head in confirmation to his godson.

"So, Regulus got out of the arrangement when he was eleven because his betrothed was in love with another wizard. She was older than my father, so it made sense that she wouldn't want to wait," she said and nervously bit her bottom lip, squeezing Ginny's hand tightly. "But to break the contract, they had to pass it down to their children instead. Which means that I'm engaged automatically just for being born, to the son of the woman that was once betrothed to my father."

"Bloody hell," Ron said with a frown. "You're engaged?"

"Are you . . . are you okay, Hermione?" Neville asked in a worried tone.

She shrugged. "I . . . I'm still processing it."

Harry was staring at her curiously. "Why're you being vague?" he asked. "You know who the wizard is? Who his mother is? The woman who was betrothed to Regulus?"

Hermione nodded.

"Who is she?"

She closed her eyes and took a slow breath before whispering, "Narcissa Malfoy."

"WHAT?!"

"Easy there, Ron," Sirius said, standing up to come face to face with the boy who already had a firm grip on his wand. "Sit back down," he ordered. "Don't make me say it twice."

"You're gonna let her go and marry that . . . that . . . that bloody Death Eater?!" he bellowed.

Sirius growled. "I don't _let _Hermione do anything," he said firmly. "She makes her own decisions when she can, but unfortunately because of the Blood Magic, there's not a damn thing _any _of us can do about this arrangement right now!"

Ron fell back in his seat breathing heavy. "It can't happen. He'll _hurt _her."

Hermione scowled at him. "I think I've proven that I can take care of myself, thank you," she said bitterly. "And he won't hurt me. Not . . . not physically at least," she said with a frown.

"What does Malfoy say about this?" Harry asked, clearly trying to keep a level head about the situation which Hermione was eternally grateful for, despite the fact that she could see him wringing his hands, forcefully trying to keep himself to leap to her defence, ever the hero.

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Says that he refuses to break the contract."

Ron made a snarling noise and started angrily tapping his foot against the ground. "It's not right," he said. "Should have thrown the lot of them into Azkaban."

Hermione sighed. "He was found innocent."

"He's a Death Eater!"

"So was my father!"

"He _hates _you, Hermione!" Ron stood. "The only reason he's going along with this marriage contract is because you're not a Muggle-born anymore."

"No, it's not," Ginny blurted out, rolling her eyes.

"Shut up, Gin! You don't know anything about it."

Ginny scoffed at her brother. "I know a lot more than you. Calm the hell down and let Hermione explain."

Ron scowled. "Explain what?"

Hermione frowned. She knew she would need to tell her friends before it got out and the likelihood that Draco would tell everyone know was high. "Draco doesn't care about my blood status," she said softly.

"Draco?" Ron blinked. "Since when do you call him _Draco_?"

"Since sixth year."

Silence filled the room. "Hermione . . ." Harry spoke, his gaze filled with worry.

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. "Please don't be mad . . ." she pleaded. "I . . . I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did and I . . . I didn't know how to tell you and Ron and I weren't speaking and . . ."

Ron looked between the two in confusion. "What do you mean we weren't speaking? When weren't we speaking?"

"Sixth year."

"What happened . . ." he stopped. "Hermione?"

"Draco and I —"

"No."

"Ron . . ."

"No. No. You're _Hermione_. You're smarter than that," he insisted, shaking his head.

She scoffed, offended. "Why? Just because I'm intelligent I'm not allowed to make mistakes?" she asked.

"_Was_ it a mistake?" Luna curiously asked.

Hermione held her breath for a moment as she truly contemplated Luna's question. She hadn't thought about her feelings for Draco, other than bitterness and heartache, for a long time. "It . . . it didn't feel like it at the time. It felt . . . I thought that he and I —"

"Stop talking," Ron said quietly, pleading for her silence. "I can't . . . Hermione, it's Malfoy. How could you . . . what did you even do with him?"

"I don't think I want to hear this," Sirius groaned and sat back down, putting his head in his hands.

Hermione remained silent as she stared into the blue eyes of her best friend.

"Answer me," he said.

She shook her head.

Ron looked like he was going to be sick. "Gods, Hermione . . . how could you be so stupid?!" he snapped at her in anger and the expression on his face said that he immediately regretted the words he let recklessly tumble out of his mouth.

Regret or not, Hermione's eyes flashed in anger and she stood up and stormed toward Ron. Sirius was back on his feet immediately, arms wrapped around her tightly. "Nope," he said. "Black temper equals bad outcomes. Trust me, sweetheart, I'm a bit of an expert here. Neville, Luna, you want to take him out for some fresh air?"

The other two nodded and Neville grabbed Ron by the bicep, leading him out the front door as he attempted to stammer out an apology to Hermione. When the door was closed behind them, Sirius waited a full thirty seconds until Hermione stopped struggling against his grip before putting her back down on the floor.

An awkward silence filled the hut that was eventually broken by Fang's snores coming from the large bed in the corner near the fireplace. Hermione exhaled slowly to calm herself and she looked up to see Harry staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "Please say something," she begged.

"He didn't identify us," Harry said thoughtfully. "At Malfoy Manor he . . . he refused to say who we were. And then at the final battle he took that curse for you. Hermione . . . does Malfoy love you?"

Hermione sobbed into her hands and shook her head no. Behind her, Ginny was nodding her head yes and Harry's eyes widened in realisation. He leaned back in his chair in silence as he tried to add everything up that had happened regarding Malfoy over the last two years. "Bloody hell," he whispered. "I . . . I won't do anything," he promised. "I'll . . . I'll try and keep Ron under control while you and Sirius figure out what to do," he said. "And I'll do whatever you want me to. I owe you that much."

Hermione sniffled and walked over to hug him close. "Thank you Harry."

oOoOoOo

To let Ron cool off, Hermione stayed away from Gryffindor Tower the rest of the afternoon and late into the evening, opting to skip dinner in favour of a few snacks that she'd slipped into her book bag. Dragging herself to the beech trees in front of the Black Lake, Hermione pulled out her father's diaries, secretly wondering if the tree she sat beneath was one that her parents studied under during their early years of Hogwarts before Death Eaters and Voldemort destroyed everything.

As was now her habit, she pulled a diary at random and flipped it open to the middle of the book, crossing her fingers that she would stumble upon something that was more than a recollection of Death Eater revels and heart clenching remorse.

She stared down at the entry in curiosity.

_. . . Hidden. Hidden. Have to stay hidden. Gods, Marlene is going to kill me when she finds out the truth. If only I could send word. No. Can't send word. Have to stay hidden. Severus will fix everything._

Her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet, rushing up the grass and through the castle doors, down the long stretches of hallways until she came to the Defence Professor's chambers where Sirius said he would be staying with Remus. "Sirius! Professor Lupin!"

The door opened and a tired-looking Remus glanced down at her. "Hermione, is everything all right?" he asked, opening the door for her.

She stepped inside, catching her breath as she saw Sirius emerge from a side room. "Hermione?" He paled slightly at the sight of her panicking. "What happened? Is it Harry? Is it Malfoy? Did he do something to —"

"When . . . when did my father die?" she asked between breaths.

Sirius frowned. "Umm . . . the tapestry said he died May 31st, 1979," he told her. "Why?"

She held up the diary, bookmarked by her thumb. "Because _this _diary entry is dated June 3rd, 1979."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: It's my birthday and so I decided to post an extra chapter! The last chapter got more reviews than any other chapter of any other story I've ever written. WOW! You guys are amazing! Pay special attention to the dates on this chapter, they jump between the decades.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Nineteen

_Filia_

* * *

**June 1979 **

Marlene sat at the table with the other Gryffindors trying not to shake as whispered theories floated around her in regards to the disappearance of Regulus Black. Her friend, her husband, the father of her unborn child. She briefly touched her stomach before looking up at the high table where she made eye contact with Professor McGonagall.

Regulus had been missing for weeks. No one knew how he'd gotten out of the castle, where he'd went, or how he ended up dead.

_Dead._

The _Daily Prophet _had reported that Walburga Black had been seen weeping in the streets when she'd received the report from Professor Dumbledore that Regulus was missing from the castle. The old witch had gone to the family tapestry to find his name there, embroidered in black, the date of his death as clear as day. Marlene had briefly felt like grieving for Regulus's mother until the old bitch was quoted as screaming, "It's over, it's over, the House of Black is finished!" not even mentioning her dead son by name, nor the one who still lived.

The next day's paper had a front page article on the arrests of Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy, who had been apprehended after a drunken brawl at the Leaky Cauldron. Witnesses said that each wizard had been overheard throwing accusations to the other over the supposed murder of Regulus.

Professor McGonagall had taken Marlene aside three separate times to ask if she knew anything, but the answer was always no. The young Gryffindor practically lived in the Hospital Wing as Madam Pomfrey looked over her care with rapt attention, making sure that the stress wouldn't harm the baby. Letters came flying in one morning in late June. Two from Lily asking if Marlene was all right as she'd heard back from other Gryffindors that she hadn't looked well lately. Marlene insisted that she was fine and it was worries over N.E.W.T.s. It had nothing to do with the death of Regulus. After all, last Lily knew, he and Marlene hated one another and hadn't been friends for years.

Another owl swept through the Great Hall, dropping a letter in front of the blonde. Marlene opened it curiously, noting the lack of seal on the envelope. When she turned a single small piece of parchment over, she took a shaky breath and forced herself not to burst into tears at the familiar script:

_O Helen! Helen! Helen! Yet awhile,  
__Yet for a little while, O, tarry here,  
__Till the drawn cometh and the shadows flee!  
__For in the gladsome sunlight of thy smile  
__Of heaven or hell I have no thought or fear,  
__Seeing I know no other god but thee_

Marlene clenched the parchment in her hand tightly and, once back in Gryffindor Tower, she threw it into the fireplace to get rid of the evidence.

oOoOoOo

Graduation was a somber affair. So many people were being killed by Death Eaters and there were rumours that there was a plan for a Ministry overtaking. Marlene met briefly with her parents who stared in shock at their daughter when she removed the glamour disguising her pregnancy. Knowing and seeing were apparently two very different things. She kissed them both and promised to write, insisting repeatedly that for their own safety she could not tell them where she lived or who her husband was; something her father, specifically, had taken serious issue with.

"It's secrecy or no contact at all," she had told him and hoped he would understand. "I won't keep you from seeing the baby when it's born," she promised. "But until then . . . please stay safe."

Her parents agreed but her older brother slipped her a piece of paper on her way out and Marlene closed her eyes after reading it. An invitation and an address. The location of the Order of the Phoenix. Gods, Reggie was going to kill her if he found out.

When she finally arrived at Iliad Cottage, she dropped all of her things and rushed into Regulus's open arms and held onto him as tightly as possible. "I thought you were dead!" she screamed and sobbed into his shoulder. "Reggie, I thought you were dead!"

"So did I," he whispered as he kissed her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. "So did I, love."

"What happened?" she pleaded.

He shook his head. "I'm dead. Dead to the world. I did something . . . something stupid and reckless and now . . . now everyone thinks I'm dead. The tapestry at Grimmauld Place. I charmed it just in case. The Order of the Phoenix thinks I was likely murdered by Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord believes I was murdered by the Order."

"How? How do you know this?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because," a voice from inside the house drawled, "as he said, he was stupid and reckless." Severus moved to stand in the doorway. "Likely your influence. He was much more tolerable before he married a Gryffindor."

"What did he do?" Marlene demanded and turned her narrowed gaze on Regulus. "What did you do?"

"Yes, Regulus, what did you do?" Severus asked angrily. "Do share if he ever decides to let you in on his little secret, will you?" he asked Marlene. "Shows up on my doorstep soaking wet and half-drowned and won't even tell the man who saved his life _why _I had to save it in the first place."

Regulus smirked, but there was a sadness behind it. "I'm saving your life, Severus," he insisted. "It's . . . it's taken care of. Now my life revolves around this witch," he said, kissing Marlene briefly before pulling away and putting his hands on her stomach, "and our . . . child."

She eyed him. "You know what the baby is, don't you?" she asked.

He grinned at her and moved in to capture her lips in a sweet kiss.

Severus, behind them both, rolled his eyes.

oOoOoOo

**September 19th, 1979**

Regulus blamed himself.

The stress of his faked death and the month Marlene believed it true had put too much on her, he was certain of it. The midwife who Severus had Imperiused and brought to Iliad Cottage insisted that sometimes things just happened but they should celebrate the one child they were given; celebrate the fact that both mother and daughter were alive.

"She'll be fine," Severus said, putting a hand on Regulus's shoulder.

"I did this to her."

"You gave her a daughter and kept your family safe from the Dark Lord. They'd be dead otherwise. Besides, you're dead. Does a dead man even need a male heir?"

Regulus shook his head. "No, let the Black name carry on with Sirius."

"Salazar help us all," Severus said sarcastically. "Give her another Blood Replenishing Potion in an hour and continue until they're all gone. I'll bring more in a few days."

"The baby?"

Severus looked like he was about to smile but then changed his mind. "Perfect. For a Black."

Regulus smiled and gave a nod of thanks to his friend who Apparated away with the freshly Obliviated midwife in tow. Stepping into the bedroom, Regulus nervously stared at his young wife holding the infant in her arms. "Are you well?" he asked her. "Tell me the truth."

Marlene smiled. "A little weak," she admitted. "So very tired. But happy," she said firmly as she looked down at the babe in her arms. "Come see her, Regulus."

He hesitated. "I . . . I'm afraid to. I'm the reason that you —"

"It happens," Marlene said, nearly snapping at him. "Regulus, come look at her," she ordered. "I don't need any more children. She's perfection."

"_You're_ perfection," he countered as he stepped closer to the bed, glancing over the soft blanket that held his daughter. All soft black curls, grey eyes, and pink skin. He sucked in a breath and reached out, tenderly touching the top of her downy head. "I am . . . foolish," he said and then sat down on the edge of the bed, unable to take his eyes off of the infant. "You were right. She's perfect. I never knew true love until this moment."

Marlene laughed, clearly not taking offense. "Such a sap," she said with a bright smile. "You're really happy? You're okay with —"

"I don't need a son," Regulus said, shaking his head. "She'll be an only child and, therefore, spoiled rotten. Spoiled Blacks are notoriously horrible. Nothing pink," he insisted. "No silly tea parties or stuffed unicorns. She'll be well-read and . . . and I'll teach her to fly and she'll be brilliant and . . ."

Marlene leaned forward and kissed him to shut up. "She needs a name first, bossy man."

Regulus bent over his daughter and breathed in the scent of new life; of a clean slate. "_'But the gods gave no more children to Helen once she had borne her first and only child,'_," he said with a sad smile, "_'the lovely Hermione, with the beauty of Aphrodite the golden.'_"

oOoOoOo

**December 1979**

"It would make him so happy to know you're alive," Professor McGonagall said as she held Hermione in her arms, staring across the small sitting room at Regulus who was devoting the majority of his attention to raking his fingers through Marlene's hair. "He's . . . he's very sad without you. Your supposed death was not easy on him."

"Not until it's over," Regulus insisted. "I love my brother and I know, deep down, he loves me. But he would understand. _This _family comes first. My wife and daughter come before everything."

"You could help," McGonagall said; an old argument.

"I _have _helped. One day maybe you'll see how. Just . . . tell Dumbledore to kill the bloody bastard and end this," he said, his words angry and bitter. "I trust all of three people in this world, Professor, and if _you _were the head of the Order, perhaps I might be persuaded," he admitted. "But . . . I remain out of the fight. Or . . . along the sidelines. I get information from Severus from time to time, perhaps you should recruit _him_," he said sarcastically.

The devil they spoke of burst in the door, soaking wet from the rain that poured outside. He looked angrier than Regulus had ever seen him and yet utterly broken at the same time. "What is it?" Regulus asked.

Severus snarled at the sight of McGonagall. "When my clothes are dry, I will insist that you hand over my goddaughter," he said with a sneer.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the man. "What's put you in such a mood?"

"As if you didn't know," he spat and stormed into the other room, returning moments later with dry clothes and a bottle of firewhisky. "Pour that," he snapped at Regulus, tossing the bottle into his lap. "A large one." He held his hands out for Hermione. "Give her to me."

McGonagall glared at Severus and cast a look at Marlene and Regulus who both just waved her worries off. "You'll not be drinking with the baby in your arms," she insisted as she handed Hermione over.

"If you want to play with children so much, go and beg the Potter's to play godmother to their . . . _child_," he hissed the words. "Pregnant," he said as he turned around and stared at Marlene and Regulus. "Lily's pregnant with the spawn of that . . . that . . ." Hermione made a tiny cry and Severus glared down at her. "Quiet," he said sternly and gave a nod of appreciation when she did as he bid her. "Obedient girl," he said, obviously pleased. "You're the only witch's company I find I enjoy these days."

Marlene smirked. "No offense taken."

"I stand by my statement. You're a Gryffindor," he said, turning his black eyes up to glare at Marlene as though she, too, betrayed him. "They're not to be trusted."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Regulus has suggested that perhaps you would serve better on the other side of this war Severus," she said and watched with amusement as Severus turned and glared at her.

"I would rather crawl through Fiendfyre."

Regulus snorted.

"Not that your company isn't a pleasant addition to my day," McGonagall said, her voice filled with irritation as she looked at Snape, "but I have many things to attend to before Christmas holidays are over and the students return."

When McGonagall was gone, Marlene took Hermione in her arms and left the two men to drink away Severus's woes together. Regulus refilled the glass of firewhisky and handed it to his friend. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," he said. "But . . . you knew it was coming. They married right out of Hogwarts. Divorce in the Wizarding world is —"

"I know," Severus said with a heavy sigh. "You started a terrible trend with this breeding thing. The Longbottoms are expecting as well. And Lucius and Narcissa have asked me to play godfather to their child. Why does everyone expect me to look after their children? I despise children."

Regulus's eyes widened. "Narcissa's pregnant?" he asked, his voice anxious.

Severus stared at him. "Yes. Why?"

"Do they . . . do they know what it is?"

The black-eyed wizard stared at his friend carefully, watching his reaction. "A boy."

Regulus took a sharp breath. "Shite."

"Shall I not offer congratulations?" Severus asked curiously. "What are you hiding?"

The younger wizard ran his hands through his hair and sighed in frustration. "I'll tell you another time. When . . . when I've had a chance to maybe fix it."

"Fix what?"

"I . . . I did something very stupid when I was younger."

oOoOoOo

**January 1980**

"Calm down! You're going to wake Hermione!"

"_Now_ you care about Hermione?" Regulus snapped at his wife. "Did you think about your daughter at all when you knelt before Dumbledore and pledged your life to his bloody fucking Order!? Fuck! You didn't even consult with me on this."

Marlene frowned. "You would have said no."

"Of course I would have said no! I've _seen _the other side. I know what they . . . what_ I _did to Order members. And you're . . ." he sat down and put his head in his hands remembering revels with Macnair who would drag witches down the hall, the sounds of screaming echoing in whatever house they'd been told to attack. "Marley, they'll kill you. You have a daughter and a husband and —"

"And I am no better than the other wives and mothers Death Eaters are attacking out there. Regulus, I have to do something. I can help," she insisted. "My friends and family are out there. My brother and parents are in the Order. I can't stand by while they might be in danger. Your brother is there. Come with me . . ."

"No," he shook his head. "And don't say a word about me when you're there. Nor about Hermione. I want no one to know about her. I don't trust them. Just Severus and McGonagall and your family. Make them swear it as well. The Dark Lord . . . he wanted spies in the Order. I don't . . . I don't know if he ever found one, but if _anyone _even suspects that I'm alive and that you and Hermione are . . ." His hands shook. "Fuck . . . why couldn't you just sit back and let everyone else fight this bloody war?"

"Because that's not who I am."

oOoOoOo

**May 1980**

"He thinks it's about Lily," Severus said, face pale and eyes empty. Regulus had never seen him look worse. He was broken, guilty, and terrified and even though Severus wasn't married to Evans — Potter now — Regulus could understand the fear that his friend was experiencing. "Regulus, he thinks that Lily's unborn child will be his undoing. And I . . . I brought the prophecy right to him."

"Divination is —"

"I know," Severus snapped. "It's insane but . . . but what if it's true? What if it's _not _true and I've just handed over the execution order for a child and . . . and he'll kill her. He told me himself, he wants them dead. I pleaded, I begged him on my hands and knees to spare her life."

Regulus sighed remembering years earlier when they'd talked about taking the Mark, joining the Death Eaters and their reasons behind it. Severus had wanted to spare Lily. Save her from the darkness by becoming it; embracing it. "What did he say?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Severus laughed a cold, angry laugh. "He would think about it. Then he suggested I marry Dolohov's daughter. The one you rejected."

"He's going to kill her," Regulus said.

"Go to Dumbledore," a voice spoke from the hallway.

Regulus and Severus looked up to see Marlene staring at them, tears in her eyes as she bounced Hermione on her hip. "Severus, go to Dumbledore. Tell him everything. He'll protect Lily and James and the baby."

Severus growled. "I give a hair for Potter or his —"

"Grow up!" she snapped and Hermione whimpered gently at the sound of her mother's voice turning harsh. "It's a baby, Severus! What if the prophecy was about Hermione?"

Severus looked down angrily, a brief flicker of genuine remorse in his eyes at the mention of his goddaughter.

"I'll take you to Dumbledore myself," Marlene promised.

oOoOoOo

**September 1998**

"So," Snape said as he stared at Hermione and Sirius, the pair standing in front of his chamber door with Regulus's diary in hand, "for the first time in given history, instead of finishing a book to find the answers, you've decided to ask questions of me?"

"Snape," Sirius growled.

Hermione's grey eyes were wide and filled with anxiousness and Severus struggled to force out the image of her as a baby in his arms, recalling instead the brown-haired know-it-all that was a constant thorn in his side, stole from his cupboards, and once set his robes on fire.

"Please, sir . . . is . . . is Regulus . . ."

_Fucking Regulus_.

"Dead to my knowledge," Severus said bitterly, figuring that eventually the girl would read through enough of the diaries to put the dates together. Regulus would have made a much better novelist than the Death Eater he became. Severus had always found it slightly amusing that while the father put words to parchment and the daughter absorbed them rapidly, they each spent their youth with their noses buried in books. The desperate look on both the girl and Black's faces said that they wanted answers, and instead of reading the books like he'd told her to, they'd nearly broken down his bloody door demanding answers. Gryffindors lacked patience.

"The circumstances surrounding your . . . _placement _with Muggles were made should Regulus, in fact, be killed and none left to care for you," he told her firmly. "As you were placed with Muggles, you can be assured that he _is _dead."

Sirius's face fell and Severus struggled not to smirk as he actually felt a strange bout of empathy for the man though he'd never admit it.

Hermione held up the diary. "But the date —"

"Does it matter _when _he died?" Severus asked, his tone a touch softer. "He is still dead."

Sirius turned and snarled at the Potions Master. "That's my brother you're talking about you —"

Something finally broke and Severus stepped forward, his frame tall and imposing and the two black-haired wizards came face to face, far too close for either's liking. "And he was _my _brother too!" Snape raised his voice, far louder than what he usually reserved for snapping at incompetent children.

Sirius was shocked at the tone and words and actually took a step back after a long moment. "When . . . when did he die?" he asked.

Severus sighed. "The last time I saw Regulus Black was October 31st, 1981."

Hermione and Sirius's eyes widened. "B-but that's . . ." she stammered.

"Indeed."

Hermione swallowed. "And . . . and my m-mother?"

Severus looked down. "Dead long before."

"How?" she asked.

"The McKinnon family was murdered by a raid," Severus began. "About a year after the prophecy and my defection. They were suspected of being allied with the Order, which was true. Marlene had been involved with the Order, much to Regulus's displeasure," he added, "for about six months before I sought out Dumbledore. It was Marlene who vouched for me. At the time, despite being a spy myself, the Dark Lord didn't like to put too much trust in any one individual so I was not given foreknowledge about the raid. Pettigrew was in charge of that, I assume," he said and shared a snarl with Sirius at the mention of the man. "The raid I _did _know about, I reported back to the Order, as well as to Regulus."

Sirius looked up. "Why to Regulus? He faked his death to hide. Why would he —"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "For you, you imbecilic mongrel," he said with a sneer. "The _second _raid, and the only one I knew about ahead of time, was set against an Auror meeting. Regulus's greatest flaw was his soft spot for _you_. He left his home to watch from a distance, provide help if he could playing noble vigilante," he said and rolled his eyes. "Locked inside a house with a reckless wife and a babbling toddler would drive _any _man to seek attention elsewhere. Regulus sought to lower the Dark Lord's army while Disillusioned." He shook his head. "I'm still not entirely sure whether that was the influence of marrying a Gryffindor or the famous Black mental instability seeping through."

Hermione sighed in frustration. "What happened?"

Severus turned his full attention to her, doing his best to just ignore Sirius. "I was supposed to return back to the Dark Lord and wait to be sent with the others to attack you," he said, looking at Sirius, "as well as Potter and the Longbottoms if they were there. Instead, I was sent to the McKinnons. Marlene was visiting her parents. I arrived with the second string. Backup. Too late."

Sirius's mouth fell open. "The fire. I . . . I remember it."

"So do I. I _caused _it."

Sirius's eyes widened. "You what?!"

Hermione reached a hand out to still her uncle's temper.

"Three Death Eaters had to have their memories altered because they caught sight of _her_," Severus said, gesturing to Hermione. "All the adults were dead when I arrived, Marlene included but, by some miracle, there didn't appear to be a man around willing to murder an infant. I removed the memory of Hermione from their minds, set the place ablaze to remove any sign that she ever existed among the family, and took her back to her father. You would know if you'd finished the diaries," he said, snatching the book from Hermione's hand, closing it shut and shoving it back at her.

Hermione bit her bottom lip and Severus struggled not to feel guilty for upsetting her. "How . . . how did my . . . my father really die?" she asked. "How did he escape the inferi?"

Severus sighed as he remembered getting Regulus's letter begging him to look after Marlene and the baby. It hadn't been more than a few hours after receiving the owl that the boy showed up at Spinner's End, coughing up water and claiming to be dying of thirst. He was badly bruised and had scratches all over his body and Snape had to put him in a deep sleep just to get the water from his lungs without him struggling against the spells. When Regulus woke a full week later, long after Walburga Black had gone screaming through the streets of Wizarding London proclaiming his death, the boy sat up, cleared his throat and refused to answer a single question.

Snape sighed and looked down at the little witch who had the same questions he did.

"I have no idea," he answered her.

* * *

**A/N**: The letter Regulus sends Marlene at the beginning of this chapter is _The New Helen_ by Oscar Wilde. The reference to naming Hermione comes from _The Odyssey_.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Just a heads up: I'm quickly catching up to the chapters that I have pre-written which means that if I keep on schedule I'll eventually catch up and might have to go back to once a week updates if I don't overcome a little bit of writer's block. Getting back on a normal schedule post-vacation has been a bit harder than I'd planned. Hopefully, it'll all shape up this week!

Q&amp;As - Many asked if we'll find out how Regulus escaped the inferi and yes, it will be answered in a future chapter, as will McGonagall's knowledge of Hermione's true origins and how that has played out over the years. **ssdawning**, When I begin a new story, I basically open a GoogleDoc where Fluffpanda and I detail out the basic cast, general plot line, relationships, changes from Canon (and how), as well as a rough timeline. Then we go into the details including a list of must have moments that eventually get organized into chapters. I don't always know the end of the story. **Jasmine 'Jazz' Venn**, Regulus doesn't tell Dumbledore about the Horcrux locket because he's under the impression it's been taken care of. Also, he does not trust Dumbledore. Regulus thinks his part in the war is over. He's done enough. As mature and smart as Regulus is, he's still just a teenager and doesn't always think of everything. **D**, Sirius is getting a rough treatment from readers during this story but let's remember that growing up Sirius took ALL the abuse from their parents so Regulus never once got hit. When they went to Hogwarts, Sirius kept being brotherly up until the moment that Regulus started treating him poorly (which WE know was necessary to keep cover). Sirius acted on what very little information was given to him. Just because the reader knows something, doesn't mean the character does. Give the poor man a break, he spent 12 years in Azkaban for crying out loud LOL.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty

_Vindicta_

* * *

**September 1998 **

Hermione had gone back to bed after visiting Professor Snape — her godfather — confirming the terrible details of her parents deaths; something she had been putting off asking about for months. It was one thing to know they were dead. She had known. Regulus's death had been well documented — or so she'd thought — and she and Harry had both learned about the original Order of the Phoenix and their ultimate ends, at least of those that died in the war. When she'd learned through the diaries that Marlene McKinnon was her mother, Harry had passed along a copy of an old photograph that he'd been given. They all stood there together, the original Order. Harry's parents and Sirius and Remus, Neville's parents, Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Prewetts, and there . . . standing between Dorcas Meadowes and Emmeline Vance was a witch with curly blonde hair that looked just like Hermione's except for the colour. There was a sad silver lining in knowing that her mother had been friends with Harry's parents. Didn't matter now. They were all dead.

Her mother was dead.

Dead.

Dead for being a brave, reckless Gryffindor.

Hermione cried herself to sleep; mourning her Muggle parents who were lost to her, and her magical parents who had been deceased for the majority of her life. She couldn't even remember them.

She woke and decided that she would feel proud. Regulus fought the Dark Lord; fought him for _her_, to protect her and her mother from a world he didn't want her to grow up in. Marlene joined the Order to stand for those who didn't have the ability to. Her parents were heroes as far as she was concerned.

And she figured they would want her to live and not linger on the past; not waste time mourning them.

After showering, Hermione decided she would do just that: live. Unfortunately, living meant accepting all aspects of her life and one of those aspects happened to be a pointy-faced — and, unfortunately, still quite handsome — Slytherin who, hopefully, spent his nights terrified that she would go down into the dungeons and smack him in the face again. The prat. _Refuse to break off the betrothal, will he?_

Hermione made her way down to breakfast, sad to see Harry there without Ron. She sighed and took her seat across from her best friend. "Is he still mad at me?" she asked.

Harry looked up and frowned. "Ron? Hermione, he's not mad at _you_. He's mad at the _situation_. He's mad at _Malfoy_," he added. "Where is the umm . . . am I allowed to call him names still or will that upset you?" he asked.

She smirked at him. "Just stay out of trouble, please. Call him whatever you'd like in private," she said and then added. "For now. If I can't get out of this then well . . . I imagine we'll be seeing a lot more of Malfoy in the future."

"Ron's not going to be happy about that," Harry noted with a chuckle.

"You're being very . . . mature about all of this," she said with a small smile.

Harry shrugged. "I faced Voldemort a few months ago. No offense, Hermione, but after thinking about it I realised that your unfortunate love life, past and present," he noted with a pointed look that briefly made her feel guilty about keeping secrets during sixth year, "barely registered on my stress levels."

She couldn't help but laugh at his relaxed demeanor and way of really putting things in perspective. "Hopefully Ron will learn to follow your example when it comes to Malfoy," she said.

As if they'd been summoned by the gossip, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and Remus and Sirius walked through, each dragging a younger wizard by the collar of their robes. Ron and Draco both snarling and scowling at one another, and both equally bloodied as the pair of professors pulled them down past the tables and toward the other end of the Hall where the Headmistress sat.

Hermione and Harry stared at the scene, each already in a standing position, waiting for some sort of signal from Sirius or Remus to approach. The professors quietly spoke with McGonagall and then, with a nod of her head, they dragged the two culprits out of the Great Hall without another word.

"Let's go," Hermione said and Harry followed quickly on her heels as they dashed after the foursome.

When they reached the Hospital Wing, they moved immediately to a bed where Ron sat as Madam Pomfrey applied an ice pack to his face. "What happened?" Harry asked.

"Fucking ferret," Ron growled.

Hermione turned and peeked around the corner where she saw Draco lying in another bed, waiting for someone to come and tend to his wounds — a split lip and a cut over his eyebrow from the look of it. "Sirius?" she said, looking up at her uncle who looked beyond annoyed. "What happened?"

He sighed. "Young wizards these days lack the subtlety that we had as kids. If _we _picked a fight, it was either in front of a crowd because you wanted it to be seen or in the shadows so you could stay out of trouble. Remus and I stumbled on _these _two at the foot of the fucking staircase having a go at one another."

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat.

"Sorry, Poppy," Sirius said, smirking at her over his language. "I know, I know, I'm a professor for now. Have to hold my tongue."

"Malfoy's an arsehole," Ron snapped and drew Hermione's attention.

"What did he do this time?" she asked in frustration.

Draco stood from his bed and stormed over, glaring at Ron. "He!" Draco yelled, pointing at Ron with a look of absolute loathing in his eyes, furious and unmovable as Sirius and Remus stood in front of him, preventing him from stepping any closer to Ron. "Called Hermione a Mudblood!"

The witch turned and gaped at one wizard before looking at the other.

"I did not!" Ron shouted. "Not . . . er . . . not really. I was just sayin' that the only reason that he refuses to break your bloody contract is 'cause now you're er . . . not a Muggle-born."

"That's not what you said, and you know it!" Draco yelled.

Hermione turned and shoved the blonde in the chest. "Back up!" she hissed. "I don't care if he called me a Knockturn Alley slag! It is not your position to defend me when I am perfectly capable of doing it myself. And you have no right to care if anyone calls me a Mudblood. _You _did it for six years!"

Draco scowled, clenched his teeth and shook his head. "Hermione . . . I . . . you don't understand. I . . . he can't do that. You're . . . you're mine to defend. You'll be my wife."

"Madam Pomfrey, do you have a sufficient supply of Pain Potion on hand?" Hermione asked, her eyes blazing as she stared at Draco, her words an obvious threat. "Actually," she said with a smirk, "I have a better idea. You want a pureblood princess? You want to marry a Black? You got it," she said and then stormed out of the Hospital Wing.

Draco froze for a moment, wondering why he felt like he'd lost the battle when her words said that he'd won. He turned and glared at Ron and then made his way back to his own bed.

"Did you really call Hermione that word?" Harry winced as he asked.

Ron sighed and looked down guiltily. "I didn't . . . I didn't mean it like that. I was trying to get to Malfoy is all. Reminding him what he used to think of her."

"You boys can't fight her battles," Remus said.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, that's _my _job now."

"No," the werewolf insisted, shaking his head. "Hermione, pureblood or not, Black or not, is a fully grown witch who has been to war and back. You can't coddle her. This is _her _life and all you can do is support her in whatever decision she makes."

Ron frowned. "What if . . . she said she _dated _Malfoy. She . . . how could she?"

Remus shrugged. "Maybe Hermione saw something in Draco that no one else did. But whatever she and Draco did then, or do in the future, that's _their _business. If you're her friend, you'll stand by her. Be there for her. She's had a rough year, and now the Wizarding world is expecting much more of her because of who her blood family is. It's not fair. Harry, her personal life is now going to be as talked about as much as yours," he said.

Harry winced. "I never thought about it like that. I'll support her. We'll support her," he said and looked at Ron.

The redhead grimaced. "He's not good enough for her."

Sirius snorted. "That's something we can all agree on. Then again, I don't think anyone's good enough for her. But, if she chooses him, he's family."

"Isn't he —" Harry began but Sirius waved him off.

Ron sighed. "Fine. I'll never be friends with the git . . . and I'll never understand what Hermione was thinking but . . . well, she was smart enough to keep us alive all these years, yeah?" he asked, looking at Harry. "Who'm I to question her decisions?"

Just then, Hermione walked back into the Hospital Wing with her head held high. She didn't say a word, but instead, handed a folded parchment to Sirius, who opened it, read the words and grinned. She smiled back sweetly and kissed his cheek before turning to leave, purposely refusing to make eye contact with Draco as she walked out the doors.

Sirius smirked at the other three wizards and then turned on his heel to approach Draco's bed. His grin widened when Draco visibly recoiled at Sirius's approach. "Mister Malfoy," he said, formally addressing the boy, "my niece, Hermione Black has bid me deliver this to you." He handed the parchment over.

Draco hesitantly took it.

_Mister Malfoy,_

_I accept your proposal of a __non-exclusive__ pureblood courtship under the conditions that you make amends to me and my family for past grievances, as well as earn the approval of my uncle and Paterfamilias, Sirius Black._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Hermione Astra (Granger) Black_

_P.S.: Good luck with that, arsehole._

Draco stared at the words and swallowed hard, turning his gaze up to meet the stare of a grinning Sirius Black, formerly accused murderer and supposed lunatic; a man who had spent twelve years in Azkaban and miraculously escaped with his sanity intact — maybe.

"You and I are going to have fun, boy."

oOoOoOo

By the end of the day, Draco decided that he was going to somehow get back at Theo and Daphne for educating Hermione about pureblood customs, specifically ones relating to a courtship. He'd cornered the curly-haired witch outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to demand what, exactly, her little note was about.

"We're not in a _courtship_, Granger," he said firmly, his lip still split having forgone treatment from the mediwtich in exchange for chasing down his fiance once her potentially psychotic uncle had left the Hospital Wing. "We're engaged. Contractually obligated."

She smirked at him in reply. It was unnerving.

"Am I Granger, Hermione, or Black?" she asked him. "Really, Draco, you ought to pick a name and stick to it. Remember, I'm a pureblood princess now," she said in a mocking tone, "I might get easily confused. And yes, we are contractually obligated, but did you know that when your mother and my father were likewise contractually obligated, _she _entered into a courtship with your father?"

The smirk on her face taunted him. She'd gotten the upper hand. How did that happen?

"See, I am allowed to date whomever I please, Draco, so long as I marry no one but you, and should I decide to _date _you again — if you want to call what we did sixth year actually dating — you're going to have to jump through _all _the pretty pureblood hoops that you claim make our society so great," she oozed sarcasm as she spoke. "If you don't want to court me, then you'll just get to sit back and watch as _other _wizards do. I might even have see if Uncle Sirius wants to throw me a debutante ball."

Draco audibly growled, and Hermione laughed at him.

"Want to break the contract?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Never."

They entered the classroom and took seats in their typical groupings. To further inter-House unity, McGonagall insisted that all core classes were now shared. Hermione sat down between Ginny and Luna, obediently following pureblood etiquette by not sitting too close to Harry, Ron, or even Neville. On the other side of the room, Draco squared his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair, sitting between Theo and Blaise.

Remus entered the room with a smile. "Defensive Charms today," he announced excitedly, clearly thrilled to be back in his element, not bothering to delay with introductory speeches. "Everyone pair up!"

When many of the students to rose to find a partner, Hermione stood and walked over to the Slytherins. "Excuse me, Daphne," she said, addressing her Slytherin friend, purposely not making eye contact with Draco as she spoke, "I had a question about pureblood customs."

Daphne smiled up at her. "I'm happy to help, Hermione. Are you wanting to pair up today?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think that will be beneficial to my plans," she answered. "I was just curious. I read somewhere that if a wizard was in _any _sort of contractual arrangement with a witch, it was his _honourable obligation_ to defend her honour. Say, if she were to be hexed or jinxed, he was _required _to challenge her attacker to a duel, is that correct?" she asked with a smug grin on her face.

Daphne chuckled, catching Hermione's meaning. "Yes, that's very accurate."

Draco snorted. "You're using a class assignment against me?" He rolled his eyes. "Have at it, Hermione," he said and waved his hand to give her leave. "You're basically just giving me a reason to duel any of your little Gryffindorks."

Hermione turned and smiled sweetly at him and then, without breaking eye contact with Draco, loudly said, "Professor Lupin, It appears as though we've an odd number of students. Would you be so kind as to pair with me?"

"I'd be happy to, Hermione," Remus said, trying to conceal a small grin of his own.

Draco's confident smirk fell from his lips immediately.

oOoOoOo

Advanced Transfiguration was worse.

Draco had arrived late to class because, after challenging Professor Lupin to a duel for letting a light Stinging Hex get through Hermione's shields, Draco had ended up Stunned by the werewolf and hit his head on a desk when he fell backward to the ground. A quick look over by an apologetic werewolf and Madam Pomfrey — who was chuckling at him as though she knew the source of his complete and utter humiliation — and he was sent on his merry way.

He strolled into class to note that everyone was sitting at their desks already, their familiars with them. Draco looked up to spot his Eagle owl at the front of the room, waiting for him. As he walked down the aisle, he looked to his left and scowled at Hermione. She smiled up at him, stroking the fur of the orange cat sitting in her lap like a villain from the Muggle comics he'd once caught Greg reading a few years prior. A small black owl was nuzzling Hermione's cheek from it's tiny perch on her desk.

He huffed and took his seat beside Blaise, who wasn't even trying to conceal his laughter.

"How's the head, mate?"

"Shut up."

Whispers in the room gave way to loud gasps and the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as a large black dog walked down the center of the room toward the front. Draco, recognising the sight of a Grim, backed away instantly only to look up — a strange protective instinct telling him to make certain Hermione was okay — to see the witch grinning. The majority of the Gryffindors hadn't even moved in their seats at the sight of the dangerous omen.

When the dog got close to Draco, it turned its pale eyes on the blonde and growled low, baring its teeth.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

And then it shifted into the human form of Sirius Black.

Draco's eyes widened, and his inner mantra just echoed louder in his mind, _FUCK, FUCK, FUCK_.

"Welcome to Advanced Transfiguration!" Sirius said loudly as he turned and took a seat on the edge of the large oak desk. His professor's robes were hung loosely around his frame, and the top of his collar was left unbuttoned. He was the very opposite of the well composed image of Professor Snape, something that was likely done on purpose. "I, am very obviously, an Animagus," he said. "And we'll be talking today about Animagi, the very difficult and dangerous process of becoming an Animagus, as well as how it differs from human to animal transfiguration by way of charms. Now, let's go over the basics, who can tell me the definition of an Animagi? Yes," Sirius pointed across the room with a proud smile, "Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled and lowered her raised hand. "An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can shift themselves into a specific animal at will. The animal isn't of their own choosing, but one that they've discovered during certain meditations and is generally determined to be chosen due to personality traits."

Sirius smirked at her. "Are you calling me a dog, Miss Granger?"

"If the paw fits, Professor," she said and the class laughed.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Sirius declared. "Now, who can tell me how being an Animagus differs from human to animal transfiguration."

All eyes turned and looked at Draco.

"Fuckers," he muttered quietly under his breath.

"Mister Malfoy? You have something to say?" Sirius asked, clearly very pleased with himself as he twirled his chestnut wand in hand, watching the little Slytherin squirm.

Draco sucked in a breath. "The difference is that an Animagus has the ability to revert the shift at their own will, while human to animal transfiguration is a _cheap _trick," he hissed, "that forces a person into the body of an animal and keeps them there against their will until the spell is reversed."

Sirius nodded. "Well said. Ten points from Slytherin."

"_From_?!" Blaise yelled.

"Sorry," Sirius said with a chuckle. "Habit. Ten points _to _Slytherin. Now, you've all seen how an Animagus shifts just a few minutes ago. Let's see the difference with human to animal transfiguration. It's a simple spell, and it doesn't hurt in the slightest, I assure you. Do I have a volunteer?"

No one raised their hands and Draco slunk down in his chair until he felt a sharp sting of pain at his ankle and jumped from his seat. "Ow!" he snapped and looked down at the floor where Hermione's orange cat was hissing and scratching at his foot, its bottle brush tail swishing back and forth against the floor.

"Mister Malfoy, so kind of you to volunteer," Sirius said happily.

Draco closed his eyes. He knew he could back out and sit back down, angrily waiting for someone else to volunteer to be transfigured, but then Hermione — and her crazy uncle — would win, and Draco had no intentions of letting that happen. He grit his teeth and stepped forward, head held high and pride — temporarily — intact, turning back to glare once at Hermione as he stepped up to her uncle. "Please," he said in a very quiet voice hoping that with his canine senses, Sirius would be the only one to hear him comment, "anything but a ferret."

oOoOoOo

They had lunch before separate elective courses later that afternoon and, instead of wallowing at the Slytherin table with his friends while the rest of the seventh and eighth years made comments about what a pretty pony he'd made — "Didn't you ask me for one of these recently, Hermione?" Professor Black had asked when he'd transfigured Draco into a tiny white horse — the blonde headed toward the Owlery and called for his own Eagle owl in addition to five other school owls, attaching scrolls of parchments to each of their legs and whispering their destination. "Make as fast as your can," he said and sent them all on their way.

When it came time for dinner hours later, Draco had fully prepared for Hermione to somehow attack him on his own turf by coming to sit with the Slytherins again, but instead, she remained at her own table smiling and laughing with her idiot friends.

"Why're you grinning?" Theo asked. "What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did something?" Draco asked innocently.

Blaise sighed. "How bad is it going to be?"

Draco smirked. "Explosive."

The evening owls began flying into the Great Hall, dropping off mail, copies of the _Evening Prophet_, and packages from home. A barn owl swooped down in front of Hermione, depositing a long rectangular box in front of her.

"Oh, what's that?" Ginny asked curiously.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know. I . . . I don't have anyone outside of Hogwarts who would send anything to me," she commented as she began to open the parcel. "Unless Mrs. Weasley . . ." Hermione's mouth fell open, and her eyes widened.

"Good Godric!" Ginny shouted, drawing the attention of the rest of their table. "Is that a diamond bracelet?!"

Hermione turned and glared across the room at Draco, who blew her a kiss.

She quietly growled and pushed the bracelet away, using the tip of her wand, clearly not stupid enough to touch it, just in case. When a second owl, followed by a third, dropped two more packages in front of her, she felt her cheeks warm. "That rotten . . ." she muttered as she opened each gift revealing more jewelry; a pair of emerald earrings, and then a sapphire broach.

By the time that the fourth and fifth owl arrived bearing an opal necklace and a silver hairpin, she was seething. "Do you have any idea how many people are starving in the world?!" she screamed across the Great Hall. "Do something useful with your stupid Galleons!" she yelled and then stormed off to Gryffindor Tower.

At the Slytherin table, Draco looked victorious.

"Worst. Courtship. Ever," Daphne told him. "Amusing as hell, but I thought you'd be better at this, Draco."

Theo shook his head. "You bought _Hermione Granger_ jewelry? Do you know the girl at all?"

Draco smirked. "I know exactly what would piss her off," he said smugly. "I spent my morning fist fighting gingers, dueling werewolves, and a very uncomfortable twenty minutes as a miniature fucking horse. She's earned me getting under her skin a little. And the best has yet to pop up."

Theo shook his head in disappointment, and Daphne sighed. "What did you do?" she asked.

Draco grinned.

oOoOoOo

Hermione arrived in Gryffindor Tower and threw her bag on her bed. "That insufferable prat!" She stomped her feet a few times, getting her energy and anger out. "Jewelry, honestly! Do I look like the kind of girl that can be bought?!"

"No," a tiny voice squeaked from behind her.

Hermione shrieked at the surprise, jumping and staring at the little house-elf standing before her. She was very small with big floppy ears much too large for her head and had bright blue eyes. She wore a pink, frilly, lace-edged tea towel as a dress and a red bow on the top of her head. At Hermione's shout, the little creature briefly cowered, and the witch clutched at her chest.

"I'm so sorry for scaring you," Hermione quickly said. "You've done nothing wrong," she added before the poor thing started hurting herself. "Umm . . . I thought, I mean, usually the house-elves don't come up to the dorms. At least not unless we're sleeping. Is everything okay?" she asked.

The elf smiled brightly. "I comes when Mistress needs me."

Hermione's smile faded. "What . . . what did you call me?"

The elf's smile widened. "I is a gift from Master to Mistress."

Hermione's grey eyes narrowed, and she felt an uncomfortable tick in the left side of her face. "What?" she asked quietly. "You . . . you're a . . . Malfoy, you son of a bitch."

The elf gasped and clutched at her ears, pulling them down tightly against her head. "Mistress must not speak ill of Master. He loves her very much," the elf said, and Hermione flinched at the words. "Bought her a house-elf to tend to her needs. Swotty takes care of Mistress now."

The air expelled itself from Hermione's lungs, and she gulped in a deep breath, unaware that the ends of her hair were sparking again. "I'm sorry . . . _what _did you sayyour name was?"

The elf stood tall, which was almost amusing considering how very tiny she was. She looked happy and proud as she declared with a sweet voice. "Swotty, Mistress. Master chooses it."

She wanted desperately to scream. Scream louder than ever before, but the tiny little elf looked so very happy, and Hermione was terrified of frightening the poor thing. "You . . . that rotten little ferret," she said quietly under her breath. "I'll . . . oh, I don't even know what I'm going to do to him yet but it's going to be so bad he . . . he'll be in the Hospital Wing for a month! Maybe even St. Mungo's for spell damage." She swallowed down the rising bile and turned her attention to the elf. "Listen . . . umm . . . _Swotty_," she said the word through clenched teeth as she sat down on her bed and kicked off her shoes, tugging at the stock on her foot. "It would please me so very much if you would take this sock."

The elf reacted, well, predictably. "No!" Swotty screamed and darted away from Hermione as though the witch was holding a red-hot poker stick in her hand instead of a sock. "Mistress mustn't. Swotty bes a good elf! She promises! She promises!" she wailed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "Swotty waited for years and years to be bought to be a good elf! Now Swotty serves!" she said with determination and then, to prove herself worthy, began furiously cleaning Hermione's dorm room.

The witch sighed in mild defeat. "Fucking Malfoy. Okay, please stop crying," she pleaded. "Swotty if you are to be my elf . . ." she said, desperately trying not to vomit, "I insist you be paid."

The elf cringed in horror and disgust.

"I _insist _it, Swotty!" Hermione said firmly.

Swotty's eyes darted back and forth as though she were trying to figure a way out of this, but in the end she frowned and nodded her head, "If Mistress insists."

Hermione sighed in relief and thought, _one elf down, thousands to go_. "I would also like you go by your _actual _name."

Swotty frowned. "Elves don't name themselves Mistress," she told Hermione. "Waits for Master to give them a name."

Hermione grimaced. _Fucking Malfoy_. "Then . . . then since _Master _has given you to me, I would like you to pick your own name. It would please me very much."

"What name should Swotty pick?"

The witch sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop the quickly forming headache. "Anything," she said. "Anything . . . but Swotty."

The elf took a good long minute, contemplating in absolute silence before grinning madly and puffing out her chest with pride. "Swotty will call herself . . . Winston."

Hermione stared at the frilly tea towel dress and the red bow on the elf's head. "Winston?" Hermione said curiously.

The elf, not understanding Hermione's question, looked up and merely replied, "Yes, Mistress?" as though it had been called.

* * *

**A/N**: I really wanted to bring the Dramione into a bit more fun. Hermione/Draco versions of pranks against one another. They're not ready to admit the genuine emotions they feel toward the other, and certainly aren't ready to maturely embrace the idea of this betrothal contract, so they're resorting to a little childish battle that will go back and forth a bit. All in good fun.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Despite letting you all know that I'm behind on writing, many have indicated that I should stick to my posting schedule until I run out of material (in the hopes that I don't). I won't abandon this (or any) fic, I assure you that, but it is likely (if time doesn't become available to me to sit down and write without interruption) that we'll go down to a once a week posting as of next week. I'm only two chapters ahead (whereas I normally like to be at least 5-10). Either way, thank you for your support and lovely reviews!

Q&amp;As - **ChizomenoHime**, the pureblood rules apply to Harry as well (despite technically being family) because of the fact that the purebloods are all pretty much inter-married at this point. No one would look twice at Hermione flirting with her uncle's godson. I think the "family" rule would only apply to actual siblings, really. (I say "I think" and I can hear my husband over my shoulder going, "You think? You're the writer! You created this mess!" while laughing LOL). **Chester99**, Ooo, you brought up some interesting questions about the contract. And no, Hermione has not bothered to look that much into it. Leaving it all in Sirius's hands is not a very Hermione-like thing to do. Me think the lady doth protests? **Djomar **and **LJ Summers**, LOL I don't rightly know what inspired "Winston". I've always thought it would be funny for someone (likely Draco) to give Hermione an elf named Swotty and for her then to ask it to rename itself only since elves are used to ridiculous names, it chooses something completely ordinary but typical of the opposite gender.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-One

_Filia_

* * *

**September 1981**

Severus walked into Iliad Cottage and sighed as he looked around, finding the living room immaculately clean but empty save for the small house-elf in the corner, cleaning something that looked like it had been dusted already twice that morning.

"Master Snape," the older elf addressed him respectfully, nodding her head. "Master and the Young Miss are resting."

Severus sighed in frustration. "He's been _resting _for months. I brought you here to help him, not to enable him."

"Meela cleans the house and cooks the meals and watches the Young Miss when Master leaves," the elf said looking offended, if that were even possible, at Severus's implication that she was not doing her job.

The man growled under his breath. "He's still leaving at nights then?" he asked and Meela nodded. "This needs to stop." He turned swiftly down the hallway, robes billowing behind him as he moved. He walked past Hermione's room, her crib untouched, and finally reached the master suite. He knocked once before opening the door quietly and peering inside.

Regulus lay on the large bed, long black hair spread out on the pillows and blankets in a mess. The bags under his eyes were prominent and he obviously hadn't shaved in weeks. Severus narrowed his eyes at the sight. Good days and bad. Mostly bad, since Marlene died. Since Severus rescued Hermione from the raid and set fire to the old McKinnon home. Telling his friend that his wife was dead had been the hardest thing Severus ever had to do, and he'd murdered people, tortured others at the behest of the Dark Lord. When suffering hit closer to home it was harder to ignore; harder to pretend it didn't really happen.

Penance. Vengeance. Punishment.

They'd joined the Death Eaters under the false idea that they didn't have a choice when in reality they did. The choice they didn't make at the time just seemed to be a poor one. They convinced themselves they had joined for all the right reasons. Self-preservation was high on the list of course, but they naively thought they'd somehow prevent worse things from happening. Certainly when paired with people like Macnair or Dolohov on missions they could help speed along painless deaths as opposed to the horrors their fellow Death Eaters could inflict upon their victims. Blood on their hands regardless.

Marlene's death could be thought of as punishment for Regulus's sins. Severus himself would attend Order meetings, having been under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore for over a year now to suffer the consequences of spilling an overheard prophecy to the Dark Lord; the same Dark Lord that was now planning the murder of the woman that Severus loved — and her family. He'd begged her to be spared, and had played both sides to see it done, but after watching his best friend crumble to pieces only to cling to his daughter for life support to avoid drowning in his grief, Severus couldn't help but wonder who would save him should his plans fail.

The tiny witch in question was sitting up in the center of the bed, her small hands patting Regulus's face, her own mass of black curls had been tied back in a neat green bow; the clean work of elf hands. Severus cleared his throat and gave a tight-lipped smile to the child, briefly narrowing his eyes as she looked up at him and grinned. "Uncle Sev!" she squealed.

He gave half a smile to the little girl, the only person these days to elicit even the slightest hint of happiness in his face. "Are you going to get up today?" Severus asked Regulus, reaching forward and pulling Hermione into his arms, cringing a touch as she kissed his cheek and tugged on his hair affectionately.

Regulus didn't move.

"Regulus!" Severus snapped.

"Papa's sad," Hermione whispered in his ear.

"Meela!" Severus turned and passed the tiny witch over into the hands of the house-elf. "Take care of Hermione while I deal with her father."

"Yes, Master Snape," Meela said and smiled sweetly at Hermione. "Come Young Miss and Meela will makes you lunch."

When the bedroom door shut behind the elf and Hermione, Severus sighed and sat down on the bed, looking into the empty, red-rimmed eyes of his friend. "It'll be over soon. The Dark Lord is planning to make a move within the next few months. Likely Christmas," he said with disdain. "He always was one to enjoy a good celebration. The Order is aware, Potters and Longbottoms are being moved to hidden locations."

"My brother?" Regulus said in a hoarse voice.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Oh, you'll speak when it concerns people you give a damn about but no one else?"

Regulus shrugged.

"He was injured in a recent . . . scuffle with some of ours. The younger ones. Untrained. He killed Wilkes in battle, Avery's father as well. Rodolphus hit him with a decent Slicing Hex, but I'm told he'll live," he said. "You don't want to know how Bellatrix rewarded her husband for that one."

Both men shuddered at the thought.

"It will end soon. We need to make arrangements."

Regulus sighed and sat up. "I've told you before. If the Dark Lord wins, I'm leaving Britain. Hermione and I will vanish into thin air. Go to America perhaps. If he loses, we'll test the waters. See how the Wizengamot treats _you _in the aftermath."

Severus sneered. "So glad to be your experimental subject. And if I'm imprisoned, you'll run away with the girl to France? You mentioned it before."

Regulus nodded. "She can go to Beauxbatons there. Change our names. If you go free, I suppose we'll come out of hiding. Beg for mercy for my actions."

"Ask forgiveness?"

Regulus laughed harshly. "Don't kid yourself, Severus, there's no forgiveness for what we've done."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Where's my daughter?"

Severus sighed. "With the bloody elf, who informed me today that you're still mucking about at night. Leaving the cottage. I don't even know why I bother telling you things. It'll get you killed in the end. You've turned yourself into a bloody —"

"Gryffindor?"

The older wizard scowled. "Idiot."

"Did you know the Sorting Hat wanted to put me there?" Regulus asked. "I begged it — _begged _it — to put me in Slytherin instead. Didn't want to deal with the shite storm that would come if I was sorted elsewhere. Didn't want to deal with my family. What family do I have now? Father's dead, Mum thinks I am, my brother hated me when he thought I was alive, and I got the only woman I ever loved murdered by my fucking brothers in arms."

Severus frowned and looked away from his friend, reminded of the sounds he'd made when told his wife, his childhood love, had been murdered. Severus himself held no affection for Marlene, but she had made Regulus happy and that made her at the very least valuable. Seeing her dead body on the ground of the McKinnon home beside her parents and brother however . . . sparked a guilt inside the Slytherin like he'd never before felt. He might have even stopped to mourn the woman himself had he not been panicked when the other Death Eaters pointed out the crying babe in the room.

"Hermione," he whispered to Regulus, pointing out that the man still did have family.

"Is all I have left in the world."

"And if you keep going out and playing vigilante, you're going to leave her an orphan," Severus said in a scolding tone. "Killing Death Eaters will not balance the innocent lives you took. They will not avenge your wife. They will not end this war. They will most definitely not keep your daughter safe. But if you insist on being a reckless arse, arrangements need to be made for Hermione in the case of your inevitable death."

Regulus turned away, not wanting to look at his friend. "She goes to you."

Severus growled. "I will not have the luxury of keeping her in _any _situation. If the Dark Lord falls, I will be outed as Dumbledore's man and my life will be threatened by any Death Eaters that may slip through the legal system. If the Dark Lord wins and I somehow survive, she'll be taken from me because she is yours. I would suggest Minerva but not only is she loyal to Dumbledore to a fault, she believes Hermione died with the rest of the McKinnons," he snapped. "Why you people put me in charge of your children, I'll never know. I had to have this same stupid conversation with Lucius and Narcissa last week. They, of course, want me to raise Draco should anything happen to them. If only to keep Bellatrix and Rodolphus away from the boy."

"What's he like?" Regulus asked. "Narcissa's boy."

Severus rolled his eyes and tried to keep the bit of affection he held for Draco out of his usually expressionless eyes. "Ever the image of his father," he noted. "Spoiled positively rotten. Narcissa dotes on him with both pure adoration and fear."

"Fear?" Regulus asked, turning to look at his friend.

Severus nodded. "The Dark Lord has been talking about the future at great lengths lately. His plans to murder Potter's boy are always at the forefront of his mind, but Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle have all recently had sons and swore them each to the service of our _Lord_," he said the title mockingly. "Little lambs sacrificed on the altar."

"Lucius did not offer up his firstborn then?" Regulus questioned.

"And it was noticed. The man played it off well, I think. Told the Dark Lord that he would prefer it to see his own child make the choice himself. It would bring honour to his name . . . and other such nonsense," Severus said, rolling his eyes.

Regulus scoffed. "Lucius is a coward. Narcissa is blind. Keep the Malfoys away from my daughter," Regulus said, his voice distant and tired.

"Stay alive and I won't have to bother. Same thing I told Narcissa," Severus said with an indignant huff. "Merlin help me, I'd rather glamour the boy and dump him off with Muggles than let Bellatrix —"

"Muggles."

"What?"

Regulus almost smiled. "That's the answer."

oOoOoOo

**September 1998**

Severus stared across the Great Hall at breakfast as owls swooped in, flocking to the tables to deliver the mail. The scene at dinner a week earlier with Draco, Hermione, and the boxes of jewelry had been repeated each meal since, small containers of priceless stones, long boxes filled with flowers, dresses, and one particularly attention-grabbing gift of a brand new Firebolt. Hermione seethed and Draco smirked and the whole Great Hall watched with rapt attention to see what would happen next.

When Hermione set the boxes on fire, Severus's colleagues finally decided to step in.

Gryffindors jumped back from the flames and every other House stood back in shock and watched as Hermione glared at her betrothed through the smoke, the fire reflecting in her grey irises. She looked positively enraged to the casual observer, but Severus knew that look. She was amused by Draco's efforts to irritate her. Severus scoffed. _Just like her parents; always so damn dramatic._

"You two!" Minerva growled and pointed to Sirius and Severus while Filius and Remus extinguished the flames. "In my office. Now!"

They marched up past the stone gargoyle, looking like a pair of third years that were due for a punishment for starting a food fight or hexing one another in the halls. Sirius plopped down in the chair in front of the large desk, while Severus stood in the corner of the room.

"This has gone on long enough!"

Sirius smirked. "To be fair, it's only been a week."

"Miss Granger set fire to a table in the Great Hall!"

The Animagus rolled his eyes. "Technically, she set fire to a broomstick. A pretty expensive one from the look of it too. Why he thought to buy the witch a broom, I'll never know. She hates flying, which I don't understand. Regulus loved it more than anything. Then again, he also keeps buying her jewelry. The kid even bought her a house-elf," he laughed. "I was surprised to see it hadn't been freed, but then again Hermione's never really understood house-elf bonds. Sweet little elf, that Winston —"

"What do you want us to do about it?" Severus asked, cutting off Sirius's ramblings.

"You two are the only proper adults in their lives!" Minerva snapped. "They are children who were forced to grow up too soon in the middle of a war, used as pawns and weapons and forced to fight on opposing sides. Hermione has had her world upended with the discovery of her true parentage, not to mention losing her Muggle parents, and goodness knows what Mister Malfoy has gone through with that . . . that _monster _living in his own home during the war. And now they're forced into this arrangement. For Godric's sake, they hate one another!"

Severus scoffed. "Your perceptive abilities are, as always, astoundingly poor."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"It means . . . like mother like daughter."

Sirius turned and glared at Severus. "You knew?"

"Knew what?" Minerva asked.

"You knew that Hermione and Draco were . . . were seeing one another the year before last and you didn't do anything about it?" Sirius stood up and narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin.

Minerva's mouth fell open in shock. "What?!"

"I was a bit busy that year," Severus drawled. "Dealing with a ridiculous teenage romance was not on my list of things to do."

"Severus, they . . . they're your godchildren. _Both _of them!" Minerva said in a reproachful tone.

"And I remember vowing to protect and teach them, but offering advice on Contraceptive Charms and broken hearts was not in the job description," he snapped bitterly. "If it will keep you from screaming at me," he said, narrowing his eyes at the Headmistress, "I will endeavor to speak to the pair of them in order to stop the foolish public displays of affection and reciprocated disdain. Is that all?"

oOoOoOo

He'd fully intended on ignoring the issue in favour of seeing how it all played out, but when Hermione began screaming at Draco in the middle of his Advanced Potions class that same afternoon, Severus dismissed the rest of the students and held his godchildren afterward, scowling at them with narrowed black eyes filled with impatience and frustration.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he said.

Hermione's eyes widened. "What?! You're taking points from _me_? Didn't you hear him in class? He threatened to slip a Love Potion in my pumpkin juice! How can you take his side?"

"Because, Miss Granger, _he's _not screaming in my classroom," Severus said evenly. "And if you think that Mister Malfoy could actually get a Love Potion past you, then you're not practicing, what did Moody call it? Constant vigilance?"

Hermione growled. "I shouldn't _have _to be vigilant. This was supposed to be a normal year!"

"You're a pureblood now, Hermione," Draco said smugly. "Whatever you thought was normal isn't anymore. And I didn't threaten to slip you a Love Potion, I asked you if you'd like me to brew Amortentia or just give you a bottle of my cologne seeing as they'd likely smell the same."

"Twenty points from Slytherin," Severus hissed at Draco.

Silver eyes widened. "What? All I did was tell the truth! Why're you taking _her _side?"

"Because, Mister Malfoy, _she's _not an idiot," he snapped at the boy. "Miss Granger, you will leave my classroom with the instructions to cease all screaming as well as your current proclivity for pyromania at mealtimes. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," she said with a sigh and turned to leave but stopped just short of the door. "By the way, calling us by our last names like that still doesn't make you any less our godfather. You're purposely trying to emotionally distance yourself from us and it's very obvious."

"Out!"

Draco watched as Hermione left the classroom and he turned and looked at his godfather with an expression that spoke comradery; a look that was not reciprocated. "See what I have to deal with?"

Snape sighed in frustration. "Draco, I have spent eighteen years watching you make _many _mistakes. From overindulging in treacle tart, to purposely provoking temperamental Gryffindors, to the _asinine _choices you have made that could have easily ended your own life _countless _times," he said and raised a hand indicating that he demanded silence when the boy opened his mouth to speak. "I watched, waited, and counseled the best that I could under the impression that, one day, you would become a man and would learn from the mistakes of your youth. It is greatly upsetting to see that I was wrong."

Draco screwed up his face in anger. "I've learned just fine," he hissed. "And I'm not the one making mistakes. _She's _—"

"A Muggle-born."

Silver eyes widened. "She's not. You said so yourself. Daughter of Regulus Black."

"Who died when she was two-years-old, forcing me to disguise her for her own safety and place her with mind-altered Muggles," Snape responded. "Eighteen years and a war where _you _were on the losing side and you've yet to figure out that blood status does not matter? The girl may have been born to pureblood parents, but she was raised by Muggles for the majority of her life and took great pride in what she thought was her Muggle heritage. Her identity was stolen from her and instead of gradually being able to come to terms with that, she is forced to endure another challenge: you."

"I'm not a —"

"You, Draco, are my godson and as much affection as I can force myself to feel for any given person let alone a child," Snape drawled, "I can truthfully claim that I have felt such for you. But," he paused and stared at the boy, "you are a challenge to any you encounter; most of all the Muggle-born girl who was very unfortunate to find that she's not a Muggle-born after all and is, in fact, tied to you for the duration of her life."

Draco frowned and looked away from Severus, clearly struggling to contain his anger. "I don't . . . I don't care about —"

"About her blood status? No. You stopped that during your sixth year."

The boy turned and stared at his godfather. "You . . . you knew?"

Severus kept his stony expression but looked as though he was having difficulties not rolling his eyes. In the end, he raised an incredulous eyebrow and made an insulted scoff. "I was a spy for twenty years, Draco. I was able to keep the Dark Lord himself from knowing my true allegiance. Did you think that two hormonally inhibited teenagers, both of whom I am magically tied to, sneaking around the castle would escape me?"

"Why didn't you . . . why didn't you stop us?" Draco asked.

The Potions Master sighed. "Because I had hoped some of your self-preservation would rub off on Miss Granger. And perhaps, in exchange, you would learn compassion from her."

"Hermione," Draco said, correcting Severus. "She's right. You're distancing yourself."

Severus sneered at the boy. "Hermione," he said. "Your relationship with _Hermione_, however inappropriate at the time," he added and the look of disapproval could not be clearer in that moment, "was something I felt best to cultivate instead of dissuade. Efforts I now see being wasted as you act the fool by provoking her to anger. And if you say that she started it, I will hit you," he threatened. "I'm aware these little games you are playing are merely for your amusement, but did you ever think that perhaps if you put any actual effort into being kind to the girl, you would have her adoration instead of fury to keep you entertained?"

The blonde remained silent, reflecting on the words of his godfather.

"When you first found out about this betrothal, I cautioned you to tread carefully."

Draco frowned and turned his back to Snape, one of few men who had the ability to read through the expressionless mask of cold indifference that Draco used to disguise his true emotions; to hide his fears and vulnerabilities. "I'm good at making her angry."

"Obviously."

"I hurt her," Draco said quietly. "I hurt her a lot."

"And Gryffindors aren't known for being very forgiving," Severus said, his tone tinted with a touch of understanding that Draco knew better than to question. "I'm aware."

"Making her angry is easier than . . . than apologising."

Severus leaned against the desk and allowed his shoulders to relax a touch now that the boy had dropped his arrogant attitude that had a tendency to raise his blood pressure in response. "Gryffindors wear their emotions on the surface. You would do well to mimic that behaviour . . . in this instance."

Draco nodded his head and then, after half a minute of silent contemplation, he turned and smirked at his godfather. "Are you offering me relationship advice, Uncle Severus?"

Severus snarled, "Get out."

oOoOoOo

Hermione had left her godfather's office but not the dungeons. She had contemplated going back to Gryffindor Tower and ranting to her friends, or even to visit her uncle Sirius and Remus and let them know how she was feeling. _Gryffindors_, she thought. They were all just like her and a little too hot-tempered to offer any form of genuinely useful advice. Ron would likely either laugh at her house-elf problem or offer to hex Draco in the halls. Harry was busy avoiding Gryffindor Tower where Winston had taken over, stopping her self-imposed cleaning regimen only to seek out Hermione to make sure she was well, or to admire Harry from afar, having heard tales of the Great Harry Potter, friend to elves. Sirius, ever the imposing figure that he adored being, would gladly follow Draco around in Animagus form, taunting him, if she only asked. Remus would likely be helpful, but she knew her uncle would pout if she asked for help from the werewolf instead of him; he already had issues with Snape being her godfather, though he at least understood Regulus's reasoning.

No, she couldn't go to the Gryffindors. She wasn't very close with the Hufflepuffs. She could barely understand Luna half the time which left out the Ravenclaws. That left only one other option.

"I am angry, Theo!" she said as she paced back and forth in the Slytherin common room, forcing away the shiver that crept over her skin. _Honestly, how did these people not freeze to death in here?_ "He only wants me because I'm a pureblood now and that disgusts me! He bought me an elf. An _elf_! He doesn't know a thing about me, doesn't care about me, and I hate him!"

Theo sat on the couch, watching the angry little lion wear a hole in the carpet. She'd stormed in, caught him off guard reading by the fire, and went into a massive rant about "that rotten ferrety bastard!" without even so much as a "hello, Theo, and how are you this fine day?" When there seemed to be a lull in her ramblings, he took a breath and decided to participate in the conversation just in case those pesky rumours about the Black family's mental instability were true. "I take it your Gryffindor friends are used to little outbursts like this?" he asked.

She huffed. "I can't talk to them because they'll just attack him and I . . . I don't want anyone to get in trouble."

He smirked. Theo figured that trouble wasn't what she was avoiding. She didn't want to see Draco get hurt, at least by anyone but herself and even then her morally grey area always did lean closer to white than black. "Well, first, calm down and stop crying," he advised and watched as she wiped at her eyes in confusion, clearly not having noticed that she'd started leaking tears.

"Second, Draco doesn't care about your blood status," he continued and at her incredulous expression, he rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like that, that bloke's been my best friend since we were in nappies. I know him better than I know Daphne," he said and then paused and carefully worded his next sentence. "And I know about sixth year."

Her grey eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. _Predictable_.

"What do you know?" she asked, her voice barely a squeak.

Theo smirked. "Everything and more. Likely more than you."

"He . . . th-that was . . ." she stammered. "He was _using _me," she finally spat out angrily. "That pureblood tradition that you told me about —"

"The one where pureblood wizards are instructed to bed as many witches as possible? That tradition? The tradition that Malfoys are historically known for ignoring?" he said, cutting her off. "Hermione, you're the only witch Draco's _ever _been with," he said quietly, making sure that no one else was in the room with them. "I know because after he was with you the first time, he came back here and drank himself sick. Not to embarrass you but . . ." Theo sighed, "there was talk about blood," he said and watched as her face turned red and she looked away from him. "He screamed about his father for a good hour, said your blood was red and not dirty like he'd been told his whole life. He said a lot of things that night."

Hermione forced her bottom lip not to quiver as she remembered that Draco had left her alone in the Room of Requirement after letting her fall asleep in his arms. She woke to a note and a Calming Draught. Apparently he had needed one as well. "He . . . but he broke up with me," she said in confusion. "Called me a Mudblood and said . . . and Astoria. Daphne said he was engaged to Astoria."

Theo nodded. "Who he's thought of as a little sister since we were children. Daphne and I are a lucky pairing," he tried to explain. "I _learned _to love her. Most kids that are betrothed at such a young age develop sibling-like love. It creates some nasty marriages. Most contracts are broken by the time they're out of Hogwarts."

"Then why —"

"Sit down." He sighed and ran a hand through his dark brown locks. "Fuck, he's gonna be pissed I'm telling you this but he's clearly too stupid to handle this situation on his own," he said bitterly. "Hermione, sixth year over Easter break, Draco went home to report to the Dark Lord about his . . . mission. The man wasn't pleased. He entered his mind, nearly broke Draco doing it too," he said the words in a whisper. "Cracked his Occlumency shields enough to see . . . well, you," he told her and watched as understanding dawned on the Gryffindor. "Only not _you_. Draco said he was able to keep your face away from the Dark Lord. But he knew what you were up to. Knew there was a girl that was distracting him."

"Oh, my gods."

He nodded. "The Dark Lord assumed, since Malfoys are known to _not _venture outside of their betrothals," he said very pointedly, "that the girl in question was Astoria. She was kidnapped from her home and brought to Malfoy Manor. She was threatened . . . in a . . ." he hesitated and sighed at the memory of Daphne's crying when she'd been told by Draco himself what her sister had gone through on his behalf, "a variety of ways. They didn't _physically _hurt her, but they made Draco watch while she cried. She was fourteen for fuck's sake. They told him what they'd do to her. Essentially . . . what they wanted to do to _you_. Then they Crucio'd _him_."

He watched carefully as she flinched, her hand rubbing against the forearm of her left arm which remained tucked beneath the sleeves of her red and grey jumper. He knew what was there though. Draco had told him. "Slytherins are self-preservationists," he said, "and that means that people think we'll sell anyone out to save our own lives. But we keep one another safe. We protect what's ours."

She looked up at that. "I am not —"

"Make all the excuses you want to, Hermione," he said, cutting her off. "Blood status. Former rivalry. The fact that he's decided to take this contract thing and hold it over your head a little," he said and rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend that you don't know it's his way of trying to get a second chance. Don't pretend this little war the two of you have going on isn't some weird fucked up flirtation. You _belong _to him. _He _belongs to _you_. And I think you've both proven that time and time again. You kept the secret of your relationship from your friends, not because you were embarrassed but because you knew they'd attack him. You kept him sane and alive that year. He kept you hidden from the Dark Lord and then tried to deny who you were as best he could to his crazy aunt then took a bloody _Crucio _for you. You stood side-by-side in battle and then you testified to keep him out of Azkaban. Maybe, just _maybe_, start acting like you like one another when it's not a life or death situation," he suggested.

* * *

**A/N**: For those who keep asking why Draco and Hermione don't just sit down and talk, they are both way too stubborn, too prideful, and too emotional. That's why it's good to have friends (and a surly godfather) to help out when necessary.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I'm sick but determined to get some writing done this week. We've officially caught up with everything that's been pre-written and edited. I've got one chapter waiting for Fluffpanda's magical Beta touch, and another that I need to flush out a bunch more. Not abandoning, swear. We'll go down to a weekly update at the worst.

In good (and surprising) news, _Presque Toujours Pur_ has been nominated for a Fanatic Fanfic Award in the Favourite Romantic Fanfic category (two of my other stories — _Tying the Nott, _and_ The Debt of Time_ — have been nominated for Best Harry Potter Fanfic!) And I'd love if you'd all go and vote, even if it's not for me. If it's not for me, then I encourage you all to vote for (especially if you've read and, therefore, know better) **Colubrina**'s _Green Girl_ as Best Harry Potter

**fanaticfanficsawards . blogspot . com**

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-Two

_Consilium_

* * *

**September 1998**

Early Saturday morning, Hermione showed up at Remus and Sirius's quarters and knocked on the door, not surprised in the slightest that the werewolf was the one to crack it open. "Good morning, Professor Lupin," she said brightly, "is Sirius awake yet?"

Remus smiled down at her. "Hermione, you know you can call me Remus when we're not in class," he said.

She shook her head. "I have to set an example for everyone else. It's hard enough to get Harry and Ron to address Severus as Professor Snape, instead of just Snape."

"But _you _call him Severus," he pointed out with a smirk.

She grinned. "It bothers him. But I like to think that he likes me a lot more than he lets on."

He nodded and opened the door further. "Come on in. Sirius is in a mood, just to give you a heads up."

She stepped into the quarters and immediately chuckled at the sight before her. Two twin beds had been clearly transfigured from the typical one that resided in any Professors quarters, and each sat on either side of the large room. On the right was a neatly made bed, an orderly desk with Defence books stacked according to size on the edge, and a set of quills next to a roll of parchment and an inkwell. On the left side of the room was an unmade bed covered in a set of robes, several rolls of parchment, and a pair of pants that hung off the footboard. Transfiguration books were strewn across the desk accompanied by what looked like a plate full of half-eaten biscuits balanced over one the open books.

The most amusing part of the obvious setup was the very distinct line that had been drawn down the center of the room in bright yellow. She eyed the curious line and looked up at Remus with a smirk.

"Had to do the same thing when we were students," he said firmly. "He and James were disgustingly messy," he pointed out and then reached over to adjust one of the quills on his own desk that wasn't facing the same direction as the others.

Sirius walked out of the bathroom running a white towel through his black locks and smiled politely up at Hermione. "Morning, princess," he said, forcing a happy smile. "Moony, you're out of shampoo."

Remus huffed. "Did you clean out the drain?"

Sirius rolled his eyes and looked to his niece. "Moony thinks I shed."

The werewolf shook his head and chuckled. "I'll let you two have some time," he said and then gave a wave to Sirius before leaving the quarters, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ tucked under his arm along with several books.

"Not that I'm supporting the use of house-elves," she said. "But how is your room _this _dirty when I know the elves are supposed to be cleaning it? Surely you don't wreck it this bad every single day?" She grimaced when she picked a dirty sock out of a nearby chair and sat down.

Sirius smirked. "Remus doesn't like his things to be touched, not even by elves, and since I room with him, they don't touch _my _stuff either. I'm sure I could get them to, but this bothers him more," he said with a laugh. "What's up?" he asked her. "Not that I'm not happy to see my favourite niece, especially since I know that her godfather," he said, still pouting over the fact that Regulus had not picked him, despite knowing the reasons, "likes to monopolize her time lately."

She rolled her eyes at him and smiled at him good-naturedly. "You two can stop with the adult rivalry. I know you made up for my sake. Or at least, made up as far as you could," she said with a shrug. "I actually came to talk to you about Draco."

Sirius frowned. "Is he causing more problems. Not that the house-elf gift wasn't amusing because it was and even you can see the humour in it." She bristled in reply and Sirius smiled at her. "It's good for you to learn house-elf culture, Hermione, and it's better for Winston to be in _your _gentle care than someone who will mistreat her. Leave it at that."

She reluctantly nodded. "Fine. I'll concede the point on the house-elves as long as you start treating Kreacher better."

Sirius groaned but then nodded. "Fine. For you."

She smiled. "And no, Draco's not causing more problems . . . I'm just . . . I'm confused."

"You don't want to break the contract either," Sirius knowingly pointed out. "It's okay," he said, smiling at the shocked look on her face. "I had a feeling it would come around to this. The boy is a right prat like his father when he wants to be, but he took a Cruciatus for you. You and I both know what that's like and to willingly put yourself in front of one?" He shook his head and sighed. "You don't do that for someone you don't already —"

"Don't say it," she said, wincing. "I'm not ready for that. He's still . . . Sirius he . . . he broke my heart. I didn't want to forgive him but, he apparently did it for a good reason. Is it . . . is it okay to do something like that? Save someone by hurting them?"

His smile completely faded and his gaze turned to the only neatly organized thing on his side of the room, a small stack of Regulus's diaries. "Yes," he said sadly as he ran a finger over the spine of one. "It's okay."

She stood up and walked to the bed, taking a seat beside her uncle. "You read them I take it?"

He nodded. "I was a shitty brother. Protected him for years at home. Took all the hits and then asked for more and I tried, gods, I tried to keep it going at Hogwarts, but we were in different Houses and even though that shouldn't have made a difference, it did when a shitstorm was brewing with Death Eaters. Our parents made everything worse, of course," he said with a sigh and ran his hand through his still damp hair. "I never knew he was the one to save me, you know. I don't even remember him coming into my room. I was . . . I just remember pain and thinking, 'Fuck, I'm going to die,' and then the next thing I knew I was waking up at St. Mungo's with James and his parents there telling me that I was going home with them and that was that. When I got back to Hogwarts, there was a Howler telling me I was no longer a member of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, Reggie was wearing the family ring, and the way he looked at me . . ." his voice broke and he struggled to clear his throat to disguise it.

She reached out and took his hand. "It's okay."

"It's not. I know he provoked me into those fights now. Called me names, picked on others to get me riled up. Gods, he even said some horrible shite to your mum to make me fight with him," he said and then let out a small chuckle. "Should have known that she would never have let a bloke call her names without smacking him herself. But she let _me _fight her battles instead and . . . fuck, I was such an arsehole and the whole time he was doing it . . . doing it for me. I wish —"

"Don't," she told him. "Regrets won't do anything for either of us now. You wish you'd been nicer to your brother, I wish both of my parents had survived. Sometimes I wish I'd never found out the truth, so I could go on thinking about my Muggle parents who raised me. I love them. But they . . . they don't even know me. I wish I hadn't needed to Obliviate them. I wish we hadn't needed to fight a war." She shrugged. "Wishing and looking back doesn't help us move forward."

Sirius nodded. "You really wish that you hadn't found out?"

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "No. I could have done without the drama, but . . . I get you," she said and smiled up at him. "Technically Harry's really my family now as well. And in a way I still have my father." She gestured to the diaries. "Draco on the other hand . . ."

Sirius kissed the top of her head. "You say the word, princess and I'll be a good dog and sign my approval off on the little prick. If you love him, he can't be all bad."

"I never said that —"

Sirius smirked. "Sure you didn't."

oOoOoOo

**November 1998**

Despite talking to their friends and family, not to mention the good scolding they'd _both _received from Severus, Hermione and Draco fell into a strange rut where, instead of fighting and arguing in the halls, they actively avoided one another, not knowing how to move forward without making a grand spectacle of themselves.

Hermione kept to herself, studying and doing homework when she wasn't visiting with her friends or uncle. She had somehow swindled quality bonding time out of her godfather under the guise of Potions tutoring — "How embarrassing would it be if people knew that your goddaughter could be out-brewed by Harry Potter?" she'd asked him one day. He'd clearly seen the provocation, she wasn't exactly subtle, but either he didn't feel like arguing the point, or he genuinely wanted to spend time with her as well; either way, Hermione spent every Wednesday evening in the Potions Lab, learning directly at Severus's side.

Draco kept his head down and stuck to his studies, purposely ignoring Blaise's taunts and Daphne's questions, especially when Hermione occasionally visited the Slytherin table — "In the name of inter-House unity," she would say and then Blaise would roll his eyes and tell her that she was too embarrassed to admit that she loved snakes. She would blush and purposely look in the opposite direction of wherever Draco was sitting.

By the time November rolled around, Hermione was actually getting irritated that Draco had stopped his very public displays. The fact that she was bothered by it only annoyed her further and she'd turned snappy toward her friends in response.

"I don't get it," Ron said with a shrug. "Can't you witches make up your bloody minds? You want us to buy you candy, you don't want us to buy you candy; you want us to hold your books for you, you don't want us to hold you books for you. It's exhausting. And don't look at me like that, 'Mione, you're making me argue for Malfoy without really knowing it and that . . . that just doesn't sit right."

She smirked at him from the other end of the couch in the large common room. "Do you want me to just go and make a fool of myself in front of Draco? No. He started this. _He _should be the one to —"

"I don't want you to do _anything _with _Draco_," Ron said the name sarcastically, "but, well . . . you were kinda pleasant toward the end of sixth year, despite the Lavender issue," he said, blushing slightly. "If that was because the ferret made you happy — and please for the love of Merlin don't tell me _how _he made you happy — then . . . well . . . you're my friend, 'Mione. I want you happy."

She stared at him in shock. "That's very mature of you, Ronald."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I'm allowed a moment or two every few years."

The door to the common room opened and Harry stepped inside with a goofy smile on his face that faded instantly at the sight of his two best friends. His green eyes shot wide open and he adjusted his tie. "Hey," he said nervously. "What are you . . . I wasn't . . . what's up?"

Ron smirked at him. "Just telling 'Mione that I'm fine with her dating the ferret if it makes her happy. I've grown as a person. I'm mature now, she says. More than a teaspoon you think?" he turned and asked her.

Hermione smiled in approval. "Tablespoon. Definitely."

"Well done," Harry said. "I think Ron's right. Slytherins are fine company. War's over. Good people, the lot of them," he rambled.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Where've _you _been?"

Harry's smile faded instantly. "Nothing!" he snapped at her. "No one! Nowhere! Mind your business, Hermione!" he said, wincing at the tone of his words in obvious guilt before rushing up the stairs to the boy's dormitories.

Hermione laughed when she heard a door slam shut. "Gods, _I'm _not that obvious, am I?" she asked Ron.

Ron grinned. "Not that bad, no. I probably would have said something before, but he's been smiling a bit more lately and if anyone deserves it, it's him." He ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "You think it's who I think it is?" he asked.

Hermione grimaced but nodded. "I've gotten to know the Slytherins pretty well this year and there are only two single witches and one of them used to date Susan Bones, so I don't think Harry is her type. Leaves only one."

"Could be a wizard," Ron suggested. "He was pretty obsessed with Malfoy in sixth year. Worried about some competition?" he teased.

"Prat," Hermione said, laughing as she hit him. "What do I do about Malfoy?"

Ron groaned. "Why are you making me play matchmaker? Isn't it good enough that I'm agreeing not to hex the git in the halls? Do you realise what your kids are going to be like? All pointed faces and smug attitudes."

"They could be more like the Black side of the family," Hermione pointed out, not taking the bait on the fact that he was purposely suggesting she'd have children with Draco.

Ron snorted. "So they'll either be prats or crazy," he said and then ducked when she threw a book at him. "You're just proving my point here!" he yelped when she smacked him on the head with a roll of parchment and they both started laughing. "Look," he said when he caught his breath. "You're upset because you thought he wanted you only because you were a pureblood and then you had a fight and Snape yelled —"

"_Professor_ Snape."

"— and now he's not paying attention to you. Have you ever thought about _getting _his attention? Making it obvious? Blokes don't catch on to the little games girls play."

Hermione smirked as an idea came to her mind. "You're right. I'll break him. But I'll need yours and Harry's help. Neville too if he's up for it."

Ron paled slightly. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"If Draco hexes you over what I'll do, just do me a favour and tell anyone that catches you it was a proper wizard's duel and you started it? He'll break his probation otherwise," she said.

He frowned. "You're asking me to let the git hex me? Am I allowed to hex back?"

She grinned. "Hopefully it won't come to that. He'll likely be more angry at me than anyone else. I'll tell you all the details before dinner. I'll be back, I have to go down to the Dungeons and talk to Theo and Blaise." Then she stood and excitedly rushed out of the common room.

oOoOoOo

The next morning, Hermione tucked her hand into the crook of Ron's arm as he escorted her to Defence Against the Dark Arts. She caught Draco's eye in passing and noted the way that he glared at the physical connection between the two friends. When Ron dropped her off at her desk, pulling her bag from off of his shoulder, she smiled and held out her hand to him, purposely ignoring the rest of their classmates when he kissed the back of it and turned to join Harry at their shared table.

"What the hell is she playing at?" Draco whispered to Theo who shrugged.

"_You_ stopped paying attention to her, maybe she's seeking it elsewhere."

"I stopped because anytime I did, all she would do is scream at me," Draco said in a seething tone, glaring across the room when Seamus Finnegan approached Hermione to ask about a homework assignment, leaning much too close to her in the process.

Theo shook his head incredulously at his friend. "Did you ever think of screaming back?"

Draco turned and narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Scream at her? She's my intended. Do you scream at Daphne?"

"Daphne wasn't raised by Muggles. I also didn't spend the first six years of knowing Daphne calling her names before shagging her," Theo pointed out and Draco's eyes widened.

"Shut up! Her uncle isn't in this class, but if he finds out that I . . . that we . . ."

Theo rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "Your secret loss of virginity is safe with me," he said. "All I'm saying is that you and Hermione had a relationship long before you ever found out that she was a pureblood, before you found out that she was contracted to you. Maybe start treating her like you did before, you know, when you actually liked her and weren't forcibly engaged to the witch."

The blonde sat angrily contemplating the words. "I'm not supposed to yell at her. I . . . I hurt her," he said in a quiet hiss. "I can play pranks and rile her up but . . . yelling . . . I . . . I don't want to fight with her. I can't hurt her again. Haven't I lost enough of my honour?"

Theo sighed. "She may be a pureblood now, mate, but she's not really one. Not like the other pureblood girls. Her hair and eyes changed colours and she got a bunch of old books that her dad once wrote in. That's it. She's the same Hermione that you loved before. Correct me if I'm wrong, but she didn't give a shite about your honour back then, did she? Suspected you were a Death Eater even."

"I _was _a Death Eater."

"Smart girl then. You're missing the point. The point is —"

"Who the hell is that kissing her fingers?" Draco asked with a growl.

Theo looked up. "Dean . . . something, used to date the Weaslette. Are you going to do something about it?"

Draco scowled.

On the way to Transfiguration, Hermione tucked her hand in the crook of Terry Boot's arm and Draco followed closely behind them the whole way, glowering at the sight. He was so busy trying to hold in his wrath that he nearly missed it when Hermione shivered and said, "It's a little drafty in here," and accepted a scarf from Longbottom, wrapping it around her neck. He cringed when Blaise patted him on the back in a gesture of sympathy.

"Try not to think too much of it," his friend suggested.

The blonde nodded and turned forward to the front of the class where Ernie Macmillan was speaking to Professor Black, his hands held behind his back, standing tall and formal looking. Sirius gave a nod of confirmation to something and then shook the boy's hand and patted him on the back in a friendly gesture. Draco watched carefully as Macmillan walked down the aisle and approached Hermione's table.

"Miss Black," he said, addressing her formally, by her birth name even, and Draco's eyes widened. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Hermione smiled sweetly. "A date?" she asked.

"If you like."

"I'd love to, Mister Macmillan, thank you."

By the time lunch came around, Draco was visibly shaking with rage. He'd snapped at Blaise and Theo all morning long and even made a third year Slytherin cry when he'd unknowingly walked straight into Draco's warpath. The blonde sat at the table with his friends, glaring across the Great Hall to where Hermione sat with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, Longbottom's scarf still wrapped around her neck, likely making her hair smell like the greenhouses instead of its usual cinnamon scent.

"She's within her rights," Theo pointed out.

"Shut up, Theo."

"Do you think she'll really go out with that Macmillan, kid?" Blaise asked.

"Shut up, Blaise."

"He got the approval of her Paterfamilias," Daphne pointed out.

Draco looked up and glared at the witch. "Daphne . . ." he said warningly.

"Maybe you should do something about it," she said, not threatened in the slightest by his bad temperament. "Have you offered to escort her to class? Have you offered her your scarf? Have you asked her to Hogsmeade? No."

"I bought her jewelry and dresses and —"

"A house-elf. Gods, you're an idiot," she said, rolling her eyes. "You did those things to annoy her, not to court her."

"I courted her sixth year," Draco snarled.

Theo shook his head. "You semi-dated her sixth year. In secret. As though you were embarrassed or ashamed of her."

Draco growled and put his elbows on the table, digging his finger through his pale locks and tugging on them in frustration.

"Go have a wank," Blaise said with a laugh. "Your intensity is a little much. You're acting like a bloody Gryffindor. Then again, she seems to _like _Gryffindors. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, _and _Hufflepuffs," he teased. "Maybe you should start . . . hey, what's Potter doing?" Blaise asked and shared a look with Theo and Daphne.

Draco glanced up to see Harry Potter approach Hermione, a wrapped, red, rectangular box in hand. "No," he said. "Not Potter. Not Potter," he muttered, not even realising it when he drew himself to his feet and began walking across the Great Hall, silver eyes focused on Hermione as she opened the apparent gift, withdrew a bracelet, smiled and held her naked wrist out for the black-haired wizard.

"No!" Draco yelled, his voice echoing in the large room. He shoved his way past several Gryffindors and shoulder checked Potter until he was a sufficient distance away from the witch. Turning toward the girl in question, Draco glared down at her and in a swift move, tore Longbottom's scarf from around her neck, throwing it back at the boy who was watching with wide eyes. "No," he said firmly.

"No, what?" Hermione glared up at him defiantly.

"No more escorts, no more dates, no more scarfs, and absolutely no fucking jewelry from _him_!" he said, pointing at Harry Potter. "You'll accept jewelry from him but not me? We're engaged! We're contracted! For fuck's sake we were . . ."

"Were what, Draco?" she asked, the scowl gone from her face. "Were we something? Were we _really_? Nothing to say?" she folded her arms when he remained silent, clearly not having expected a level headed set of questions from the witch. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Harry was about to give me a very pretty bracelet," she said and then turned her back on the Slytherin.

He snapped.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Draco spun her back toward him and used her gasp as an opening to press his mouth to hers, cupping both of her cheeks with his hands. He'd done it as a sign of dominance, of course, a way to stake his claim as publicly as possible to warn off other men, but the feel of her lips again, after more than a year . . . it was bliss . . . it was warmth in a sea of cold that was his life. When she sighed and returned his affections, pressing her tongue into his mouth, he remembered how her kisses had kept him sane during sixth year when he was falling apart at the seams. She had been his sanctuary in a world of absolute darkness. She had been . . . and he had loved . . .

_Gods_, how he had _loved_.

"Ahem!" echoed the loud voice of the Headmistress from the high table.

Draco reluctantly pulled his lips away from Hermione to catch his breath. Before he had a chance to say anything, she looked up and him, smiled, and possessively whispered, "Mine."

"Yours?" he asked with a sly grin.

She quickly nodded, a hesitant smile on her face. "You."

He narrowed his eyes in understanding but smirked at her. "You played me."

"Very easily," she replied with a laugh and looked to her right where Potter was grinning smugly, the bracelet dangling from the tips of his fingers. The man whispered a quick _Finite _and the gem-covered gold strand transfigured back into a string of orange yarn.

Draco's eyes widened. "You planned everything? It was all fake?"

"Not this," she said softly, reaching a hand up and touching his cheek. "_This_ was never fake."

He swallowed and tried to ignore the giggling whispers coming from her Housemates. "So you don't want to break the contract? You'll marry me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Pureblood rules are stupid," she said firmly. "I'm going to _date _you, Draco Malfoy. Forget the contract."

He nodded and kissed her again, ignorant to the stares of everyone in the Great Hall. "I can do that."

"Can you do it somewhere else?" Ron said with a laugh. "Some of us are trying to eat and watching the two of you snog is ruining even _my _appetite."


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Man when it rains, it pours. My ceiling collapsed in the living room this week due to a leak in our swamp cooler. It's been a crazy couple of days. I'm still sick and on meds and desperate to start writing again but I'm still super behind. However, Fluffpanda finished editing this chapter early and I figured I'd throw it out there. Also, this fic has been nominated for ANOTHER award! An Energize W.I.P. Award for Most Promising HP Fanfic along with **Colubrina**'s _Muddy Princess_, and **bluecurls**'s _No Longer Playing_. I'm massively honoured to have been nominated alongside these two friends who are also two of my favourite writers! Please go and vote! - **energizewipawards . blogspot . com**

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-Three

_Ludum_

* * *

**November 1998**

Draco stared at the witch, _his _witch, his girlfriend — _not fiancee_, because she had certainly made her point about that issue very clear, and he was more than happy to oblige — "You're being completely irrational," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

They'd been officially dating for less than a month and it had been touch and go for a while. She hated when he was rude to her friends, he detested that she preferred studying to snogging, and both seemed hesitant to engage in anything physical outside of a little kissing; Hermione because she was still learning to trust him, and Draco because he was positively terrified of Sirius Black finding out that he'd deflowered his niece in sixth year, long before he knew who she was and what that meant to him in a traditional pureblood sort of way.

He walked her to classes and sat the appropriate distance away from her but still held her hand in all of the classes they shared except for Advanced Transfiguration, but not because Draco was afraid of Sirius Black — even though he was — but because Sirius would end up making a spectacle of the couple, drawing far too much attention to them in an effort to good-naturedly embarrass them. They had tried to sit next to one another in Advanced Potions, but Severus put a stop to that on day one when he insisted they be kept as far apart from one another as possible so that he didn't have to "put up with those sickeningly stupid grins" and that they needed to focus on their work and not "play footsie" under the prep tables.

Draco would occasionally sit with her at the Gryffindor table for breakfast and she would visit him in the Slytherin common room at night, sprawled out in front of the fireplace with their books open, studying, while snuggled together as though they were trying to refit their individual puzzle pieces back together despite having been reshaped by war.

And they argued.

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "You're being a prat."

A smirk plastered itself across his face and he tugged her toward him, hands on her hips. "Yes, and you adore me regardless," he said, whispering the words against her lips as she pretended to groan in disgust. "Please," he said quietly. "Do you see me? Do you hear this? I'm saying _please_. Malfoys don't beg."

She smirked at him. "I don't consider it begging until you're on your knees," she said and then when he opened his mouth, she covered it with her hand and glared at him, "and I swear to fucking Merlin, Draco, if you make one comment implying that _I _should be the one on my knees then I will hex your broom and not feel an ounce of guilt for it."

Draco chuckled against her hand, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and he nipped the skin of her palm lightly until she released him. "You'd feel a _little _guilty," he said confidently.

She shrugged. "Maybe."

"Because you _adore _me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sometimes."

"And you're my —"

"Girlfriend!" she said quickly, eyes wide.

He nodded slowly and smiled. "I was going to say girlfriend. We agreed. Fuck the contract."

"Language," she scolded.

"Hypocrite," he pointed out and then rested his forehead against hers. "Please, Hermione. It would make me very happy."

She frowned and sighed loudly. "My whole House is going to go mental."

He grinned as if that was the whole point of this little argument. "I know."

"And my uncle will pitch a fit."

He shrugged. "But Snape will be happy. He might even smile," he said and then gasped at the very notion of such a thing, the noise eliciting a laugh from the little witch that lit something within his chest, filling him with a pride that wasn't laced with arrogance.

"We should be so lucky," Hermione said and then held out her hand in defeat. "Fine, give me the damn scarf, Malfoy."

Draco beamed victoriously and removed his silver and green scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around hers instead, and then taking her still-open palm and kissing it tenderly. "You going to wish me luck?" he asked, still smiling brightly. "Want me to catch the Snitch for you?"

Hermione sighed, her eyes filled with obvious worry. "If you want to do something for me you'll sit the game out," she said, refusing to meet his stare knowing that there was nothing in the world that would pull a Quidditch player out of a match. She'd seen her friends play with broken bones and bleeding heads for crying out loud, a little pleading from a girlfriend was not going to deter Draco. "Or do something ridiculous to get it cancelled entirely. Retire Quidditch forever," she said and then sighed when he snorted in reply. "Please just be safe. And don't _purposely _hurt Harry either. I've seen the way the two of your try to knock one another off your brooms. It's horrifying."

Draco shrugged, making no such promises. "It's Quidditch. The danger is half the fun."

She frowned. "I've had enough of danger."

Draco pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and then kissed her cheek. "This is _fun _danger."

Hermione looked down at the scarf wrapped around her neck, her fingers toying with the frayed ends. One of very few things Draco owned that wasn't immediately replaced with something new when it began to show signs of wear. Likely it was kept for sentimental reasons, or for luck. Either way, it meant a lot to him to part with, and for her to wear it, publicly. "I happen to think I look ghastly in green," she pointed out, her tone teasing.

Draco smiled and then whispered softly, "I happen to think you're a vision."

oOoOoOo

She made it to the Quidditch stands, sitting in her usual seat reserved for Gryffindors though, thanks to inter-House unity, the stands were speckled with a variety of colours instead of the overwhelming sea of red. Still, her new green accessory was eye-catching to her Housemates who smirked at her, mouths gaped open.

"'Mione? Sweetheart?" Sirius said as he approached her, reaching out to touch the scarf with amusement in his eyes. "Some rotten snake seems to have charmed your pretty scarf green and silver when we all know it should be red and gold," he teased.

She sighed in frustration, not looking forward to the approaching match one bit. "Draco asked me to wear it. Begged, actually."

Daphne chuckled as she approached. "On his knees?" she asked. "Gods, please tell me he actually got on his knees to ask you to wear this," the blonde said with a bright grin before her blue eyes fell on her wizard who was sitting behind her, nose stuck in an Advanced Charms text. "Theo, put the book away and pay attention."

He looked up. "What? Oh," he said, spotting the Gryffindor in green, "nice scarf, Hermione."

"Green looks awful with your colouring," Sirius said.

"Same colouring as yours," Hermione smirked at her uncle.

"I know!" he shouted with great enthusiasm. "And red looks wonderful on us."

"Do I have to bring up the father issue?" she asked.

Sirius waved his hand at her. "Regulus would have looked better in red too," he insisted.

Hermione smiled sweetly and curled into Sirius's side as she took her seat between her uncle and Daphne, smiling when he draped a protective arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the chill. "I'll agree with you on that one," she said. "However, I'm being a dutiful girlfriend."

Sirius smirked. "Betrothed?"

"Girlfriend," she corrected. "We're ignoring the contract. I'm being a dutiful _girlfriend _and supporting my _boyfriend _inasmuch as I possibly can with this stupid sport," she said and flung her wrist flippantly at the pitch where the teams were taking a warm-up lap. "Don't tell me that you didn't have your girlfriends wear _your _scarf during a match even if they weren't in your House?"

"You assume I dated outside of Gryffindor?" Sirius chuckled.

Hermione looked up at him and grinned. "Diaries ousted you," she confessed.

Sirius huffed. "Fucking Regulus and his attention to details. Fine," he admitted, "I may have dated a few girls during my time as a student."

"How many?"

He laughed. "Pretty much all of them except your mum and Lily."

"What about _my _mum?" Neville innocently asked as he approached the stands, looking down at Sirius with a curious expression.

The raven-haired professor looked up at Neville and schooled his features with a sweet smile. "I took Alice to Hogsmeade _once _during fourth year," he admitted. "Just that once and there was no funny business," he said firmly and clapped Neville on the back as the boy smiled and passed him, taking a seat down the bench where a few Hufflepuffs had gathered.

Hermione leaned in and whispered, "There was a little funny business, wasn't there?"

Sirius cleared his throat. "Alice Brown was a looker. Shame for me she was head over heels in love with Frank and no amount of snogging — and I tried my damn best — could make her think of anyone else," he said with a mild blush, his eyes flickering down the row toward Neville. "Course Frank didn't know it at the time which, I imagine, is why she tried to make him jealous."

Hermione smiled. "Did it work?"

Sirius gestured to Neville. "You're looking at the proof. The game started," he pointed out when Madam Hooch's whistle silenced the crowd just moments before everyone erupted into cheers for their chosen team.

Hermione leaned forward, watching with interest as Draco and Harry shook hands down on the grass. Quidditch had been cancelled during the last year, something Severus admitted to doing on purpose to provoke Minerva, who was a self-proclaimed Quidditch addict, though Hermione had a feeling it had more to do with the idea of the Carrows teaching students to use Unforgivables that were likely to end up used in the game, and a Crucio on the ground was easier to deal with than midair.

Draco was beaming brightly, proud and happy to be back on a broom, back in the game. Harry, likewise, was obviously thrilled to once again take up his position as Seeker. The Captain badge had been a surprise to him, one that Ginny had willingly passed over, an "end of relationship" gift, she had called it and Harry had laughed and thanked her.

The players took to the sky and Hermione held her breath just as her vision was blocked. She looked up and sighed irritably when she saw Pansy Parkinson staring down at her.

"Black," Pansy said.

Hermione smiled up at the girl. "Technically it's still Granger."

Pansy rolled her eyes and pushed Daphne over so that she could take a seat beside Hermione, who had a better view of the pitch. "_Technically_, it'll be Malfoy eventually, so really there's not much point to even having another name, is there?"

Hermione shook her head and looked over Pansy's shoulder to Daphne who was laughing at her Housemate. "You could just call me Hermione," the Gryffindor pointed out.

Pansy shrugged. "Meh," she said and then wrapped her robes closer around her as a chilly breeze flew through the stands. Hermione smirked when she caught sight of a familiar faded bit of red and gold peeking out from beneath Pansy's robes.

"Nice scarf, by the way," she said.

Pansy didn't react to the bait. "You like it?" she said, not even looking at Hermione as she spoke. "I stole it off of a first year."

Hermione chuckled. "Sure you did."

Luna's ethereal voice echoed in the stands and everyone cheered as the game really took off when a flash of long red hair flew by them in a blur. "Ginny Weasley with the Quaffle. She's flying very fast," Luna said. "I asked her once if she thought she was especially gifted at riding brooms very fast and she asked me not to say things like that in public anymore and . . . oh look, Slytherin's Keeper Titus Mitcham missed. I guess that means Gryffindor is in the lead."

Despite worrying for her other friends in the game, Hermione's head was tilted up, watching as two players dressed in red and green respectively flew higher and higher, circling one another like posturing animals, until they were nearly out of sight. "Do they have to go up so high?" she asked nervously.

Sirius smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Couldn't tell you, sweetheart. Never was a Seeker."

"It makes me nervous."

He chuckled softly. "Still find it funny; you not liking flying. Reg was practically born on a broom. Loved it more than just about anything."

Hermione felt herself relax a touch at the mention of her father. "I know," she said with a soft smile. "He talks about it in his diaries almost as much as he talks about my mother. I usually skip all the Quidditch bragging entries. There's only so many times I can read the words 'wind in my face' without cringing," she said and Sirius barked a laugh.

Daphne smiled, listening in on the conversation as she watched with rapt attention as two opposing Beaters tried hitting one another with their bats only to have Madam Hooch blow her whistle and call a foul. "Sure is interesting though," the blond witch said. "Your _father _was a Seeker, your _best friend_ is a Seeker, your _boyfriend _is a Seeker."

Theo snorted, nose back in his book. "Sounds like someone was born to be a Quidditch groupie."

Hermione smirked and aimed a small playful hex at the Slytherin, which he deflected and then looked up and grinned at her.

"Blaise Zabini tries to throw the Quaffle, but Ron Weasley catches it," Luna continued to commentate. "He has quite impressive reflexes. During the war, he helped rescue me when I'd been captured and we spent some weeks together at his brother's little cottage. He has very nice hands."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "What?" she asked and turned to look at Neville for confirmation of this new development that was apparently Ron and Luna. "Hands?"

The boy stared at her, eyes wide as he shook his head in surprise. "That's the first I've heard of anything," he told her. "Well done, Ron," he added under his breath.

Pansy rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, please, those two are made for each other," she declared. "They'll create giant, doe-eyed, ginger sprogs and run off to live in a hideously crooked little . . ." she turned her attention to the crowd behind her, half of which were glaring in her general direction; those from her own house just looked disappointed. She sighed loudly. "I mean . . . awww," she said in a sweetly fake tone that was an octave too high, "how cute. It's a regular fucking fairytale."

Theo stared at his friend and then smirked. "Pansy," he said to draw her attention which had been returned to the highest point in the sky where Draco and Harry continued to circle the pitch. "Nice scarf."

Without blinking, Pansy replied, "Stole it off a second year."

Hermione smiled. "Thought it was a _first _year," she said knowingly.

Pansy scoffed. "Can you even tell the difference?!"

"Oh, what a lovely day for rain," Luna's voice echoed loudly. "And I think Harry Potter has seen the Snitch."

Hermione and Pansy both jumped from their current positions to move toward the railing in order to get a better view. There was the tiniest flash of gold before Hermione caught sight of Harry diving straight down, hand extended toward the fluttering ball several feet in front of him, Draco barely a foot behind him, both with determined looks on their faces.

"Oh, be careful you two," Hermione said, worrying the frayed ends of Draco's scarf between her fingers.

Draco took a sideways glance at Harry before he laid flat against the handle of his broom, pulling his legs in tight and ducking his head down a fraction of an inch. The maneuver helped him against the wind resistance and slowly but surely he edged out further, catching up to Harry who still had his attention focused on the Snitch.

"Draco Malfoy side by side with Harry Potter . . ." Luna was saying, but Hermione couldn't hear anything but her own voice chanting in her head for both boys to come out of this game intact.

"I swear to Merlin, Harry Potter if you pull one of those rotten trick moves . . ." Hermione mumbled and then as they descended closer and closer to the ground, her eyes widened and she felt her heart beat in her throat. "Pull up. Pull up! Pull UP!" she screamed as they closed in on the ground. She turned and ran straight into Sirius's arms, burying her head against his chest. "I can't watch!"

"Pull up you fucking idiots!" Pansy screeched loudly.

Harry and Draco both pulled on their broom handles with one hand, slowing their descent but each still focused on catching the Snitch, each with a hand out, ready to snatch it from midair, so close they could have been holding hands as they barrelled into the ground, toppling over one another and taking the fluttering gold ball down with them.

Despite the moment being intense, Luna's voice remained as calm as ever. "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have both crashed onto the ground. They look uninjured though. Can't tell if either of them caught the Snitch. They both seem to be struggling in a bit of a mud puddle."

Hermione turned away from Sirius at Luna's words and leaned over the rail where, just as the Ravenclaw said, Harry and Draco were fighting one another in a puddle of mud at the bottom of the pitch, the Snitch nowhere in sight. She groaned in frustration and mumbled curses under her breath involving "wretched boys" and "stupid sport".

"Gerroff me Potter!" Draco shouted as Harry's knee pushed into his thighs, pinning him to the ground as they both struggling against the tangle of legs, brooms, and the added weight of the mud they'd collided into that had likely saved them from a harder fall, but was now making it more difficult to get to their feet.

Harry turned and kicked at Draco, who had the backend of his broom lying against the back of Harry's neck. "You're on top of _me_, Malfoy!" he yelled.

Draco snorted. "You wish! Where's the bloody Snitch?!" he said, thrusting his hands into the mud, feeling around for the tiny ball. "I just had it."

"You mean_ I_ just had it."

"You're outta you fucking mind, Potter!"

"Get off me, dammit!" Harry snapped, and pushed Draco in an effort to break free.

"I'm trying, it's slippery —"

"Ow! You ferrety —"

"Fuck you!"

Up in the stands, their friends and families looked on in silence as the game continued above them, though Ginny had paused, Quaffle in hand to look down as Draco shoved Harry's face directly into the mud while Harry took a fistful of the wet dirt and lobbed it at Draco's mouth.

"It looks like the Seekers have both misplaced the Snitch," Luna said. "Either that or they've retired from Quidditch to take up the graceful art of mud wrestling."

Theo and Daphne laughed while Hermione groaned in irritation.

Pansy looked completely unaffected by the outcome of the game as she stared down at the grass where both boys continued to wrestle, flinging dirt at one another while screaming obscenities as Madam Hooch and both Professors Snape and Lupin tried to separate them when they started throwing fists instead of mud.

"I'm not going to complain," Pansy huffed, "but the least they could do is take off their shirts."

oOoOoOo

Hermione stood at the foot of two beds in the Hospital Wing, a hand perched on the foot railing of each as she stared at the men — boys — in the beds in front of her. "Are you proud of yourselves?" she asked with a disappointed tone that would make Molly Weasley proud. Truthfully she knew it was just a game and the fact that they were alive at all was something to celebrate, but she'd worried and that alone was enough to scold them over.

They'd been stripped out of their gear and partially cleaned from their little spat so that Madam Pomfrey could treat the small wounds they'd collected. Harry had a large bruise that ran the length of his left leg from the initial crash, and the impact had made his head hurt a bit which worried the mediwitch who checked him over to see if he'd somehow re-injured his skull that had been cracked during a Quidditch game sixth year. At least that was her excuse. Hermione figured that Madam Pomfrey was worried that even the slightest headache could have something to do with the second Killing Curse that Harry had survived only months earlier.

Draco was a bit better off though looked just as poor. He was nursing a sore left shoulder and arm, but the right one seemed perfectly healthy considering he was actively using it to dump candy into his open mouth as Hermione scowled at him. He didn't look affected by her glare in the slightest, having too much fun cherishing the fact that she was angry because she'd been worried about him. It felt good to be worried about.

"You could have died!" she said and both boys scoffed in response at her over dramatic retelling of the events. "I hate that stupid sport," she said, tugging at the end of the green scarf around her neck. "And a mud fight? Honestly. Are you twelve?"

"It's all a part of the game, right Potter?" Draco said, smirking up at the little witch as she fumed.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, Hermione, ease off."

Hermione's eyes flashed and she stomped her foot. "Oh, you're both impossible!" she shouted and then stormed out of the infirmary in a huff.

"You love us though!" Harry called after her, grinning as the doors flung closed.

Draco smirked. "She could have at least told us who won after we got kicked out," he said, a bit begrudgingly.

Harry nodded in agreement and then tilted his head to the side curiously. "Was she wearing your scarf?"

"Yep."

"Damn," Harry said and then laughed. "How much begging did you do to get that to happen?"

Draco shook his head. "Malfoys don't beg."

Harry chuckled and leaned back against his pillows, putting his hands behind his head. "I think this is the friendliest conversation we've ever had," he pointed out in amusement.

Draco sneered at the black-haired boy. "We're not friends, Potter."

Harry shook his head in agreement. "Not even close."

"Fizzing Whizbee?" Draco said, holding the package out to the side, offering the candy to his rival.

Harry turned and smiled, reaching out and taking one. "Oh, thanks."


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I'm shocked that I was able to knock out two chapters for this week, truly. Hopefully, I can keep up the momentum to keep next week on schedule as well. I'll likely be inspired to write as I'm FINALLY getting my first Harry Potter related tattoo today! I'll post pics on tumblr and Pinterest when it's finished.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-Four

_Purgatus_

* * *

**November 1998**

Hermione glanced up at Draco from the corner of her eye and briefly narrowed her gaze. She was attempting to be a touch intimidating, but somehow he only grinned in reply to her pitiful efforts at silently scolding him into studying submission as though she were an adorable little kitten, batting at a dangling piece of yarn.

"You could at least _pretend _to study," she pointed out as she returned her attention to the text in front of her. "You used to be intelligent a few years ago. We'd have lively discussions about Arithmancy variables and Rune translations."

"We also used to snog in broom closets. Want to have a go?" he asked with a devious smirk just as his fingers toyed with the bottom hem of her skirt, the tips brushing against her knee.

Hermione fought to hold back the smile that twitched across her jaw as she remembered the intensity that defined their relationship during sixth year and how passionate but stressful it had been because of the fact that they needed to keep it a secret. Now, well, the secret was out and she had fully expected him to be bored with her without the added adrenaline, but there he was, just as enamored with her as ever and Hermione struggled to fully understand the how and why of it all.

She was just as thrilled with him and had, on more than one occasion since their rekindled relationship, been told by her friends to get a room because even the stares they were giving one another across classrooms were "a bit much for public consumption".

"Finish your essay for Advanced Transfiguration," Hermione said, pushing a roll of parchment in front of him with one hand while prying his fingers away from her knee with the other, which didn't take much effort at all as he basically bent to her will when it came to setting physical limitations, "and I'll think about taking a walk with you around the lake. Isn't that what a proper pureblood girl would offer? I hardly think that broom closets are considered appropriate meeting places for us," she said sarcastically.

Draco snorted. "You're worried about keeping pureblood protocols?"

"My uncle would —"

Draco laughed. "Your uncle is the most depraved person I've ever met. He told Potter, who told Weasley, who told _everyone_, that he had a collection of knickers he'd been gifted by girls of every House when he went to Hogwarts. And then last week in class he accidentally let it slip that he used his Animagus form to meet women in the park."

Hermione winced at the memory of that particular class. Though it _was _particularly amusing when Professor McGonagall publicly berated him for it. Draco did have a point, however. "Well, then my father —"

"Hermione, from what you've told me, you were likely _conceived _in this very castle, when your mother used an illegally made map to sneak into the Slytherin dorm rooms to shag your father," Draco said and then chuckled as she grimaced. "I'm not trying to push you into anything you don't want, but you can be honest with me instead of throwing your family and pureblood rules out. So long as your uncle remains in the dark about how far you and I went in sixth year, I'm happy to follow your lead."

She looked up and raised a brow at him. "I believe you. I know you'd never . . . but . . . why is it so important that Sirius not know you and I had sex?" she asked him and judged that she'd said the words a little too loudly because Draco flinched at them.

"It's a . . ." Draco sighed. "It's stupid and you'll hate it but . . . you know the whole deal about witches saving themselves for marriage. Well, we all think it's crap, but some families _really _stick to the old ways and a daughter is just as important as a son. Boys are valued because they carry on the name, but girls are valued because they're actually a magical rarity in some families. I wouldn't be surprised if Weaslette isn't incredibly powerful. She's the seventh child and the only girl born to the Weasleys in generations.

"There are rumours about a witch's magic being tied to . . . well . . . her virtue and then there's Dark Magic that involves the maidenhead blood of a virgin. I wouldn't . . . I _was _technically a Death Eater when you and I . . ." he sighed and looked down, ashamed. "It could be implied that I used your —"

"Gross," Hermione said and held up her hand, insisting that he stop talking immediately. "Please don't. I know you didn't, that you wouldn't, and that's all that matters to me. If Sirius finds out, and he will likely find out because I'm done with all of this being a secret, _I _will deal with any ramifications that come up."

Draco looked down. "It's . . . I've already dishonoured myself enough as it is, Hermione. If he thought that I might have —"

She narrowed her grey eyes. "You've done nothing of the sort and you stop that right this minute, Draco Malfoy. You are . . . you are good and wonderful and brave."

He practically glared at her for that.

"You _are_. You did what you could to protect those you loved," she said, speaking of his family though she did have to wonder where she fit into his affections. "And you . . . you took a curse for me. I don't care what's on your arm. You're good and the only person you should have to prove that to is yourself. And me if you get on my bad side again," she added with a smirk. "Perhaps the N.E.W.T.s board, that is, if you ever actually consider studying instead of watching me read while trying to get a hand up my skirt."

He grinned and leaned forward and kissed her hard and deep, wrapping one hand around her waist and tugging her until she fell off of her own chair and onto his lap instead. She made a squeaking noise of protest that Draco responded to by loosening his grip on her, only to smile when she buried her fingers in his hair.

"What was that for?" she whispered when he finally pulled away from her, planting another small kiss on her lips before doing so.

Draco sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. "The faith you have in me is . . . unwarranted," he said. "Though not unwelcome."

Hermione nervously bit her lip. "I . . . Draco I know about Astoria. And Easter," she said and heard him suck in a breath. "I know what you did for me. I know how you . . . fought and why. I know why you ended things."

He frowned, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "I . . ." he began and then sighed in what felt like relief. "I didn't want to have to do that. I didn't mean any of it, please tell me you know that."

Hermione nodded. "I know it now. That's what matters. Kiss me again," she said with a teasing smile.

"Broom closet?"

She rolled her eyes. "After studying. I'll think about it."

"Slytherin common room is open to everyone in the castle now," he pointed out.

Hermione chuckled. "Yes, it is. But the _dorms _are not. Not to mention Severus could walk in at any moment. Remember him? Angry godfather? Likes taking points away from us _both _now? Somehow I think you'd actually be better off getting caught by Sirius."

Draco laughed and looked far too smug for his own good when he replied with, "I'm not afraid of them," as though he hadn't just admitted his worries over Sirius discovering the extent of their previous relationship.

Hermione let the thoughts linger in her mind as she blankly stared at the books in front of her as though she were reading, occasionally glancing over at Draco who finally put quill to paper to knock out an Advanced Transfiguration essay that she was happy to not need to proofread; there would be no doubt that both Harry and Ron would be pleading with her later that night for her assistance, especially since they'd each wasted valuable homework time wandering off with witches. Harry with his not-at-all secret — though still a bit strange — paramour, and Ron who had been seen from time to time blushing in the presence of Luna Lovegood.

oOoOoOo

"Draco and I had sex sixth year. He . . . we were both virgins at the time. He was already a Marked Death Eater, but he didn't . . . there was no Dark Magic involved."

Sirius Black currently hated his life.

He sat in his quarters that he shared with Remus across from his niece who was holding a teacup in one hand, saucer in the other, legs crossed at the ankles as though she'd been raised immersed in pureblood lessons about etiquette and posture. She spoke with elegance, pausing only once or twice as she made her little announcement that he was certain she'd practiced in front of the mirror several times before walking down the stairs and knocking on his door. She was likely nervous as hell, but she was trying so very hard to not let it be known. He couldn't help but think that his bigoted mother would have adored her until she opened her mouth and began lecturing about the slave-like treatment of house-elves or the necessity to provide free health care for werewolves. He was so proud of the girl he could barely stand it.

Except the sex thing. That was bumming him out.

Not that he was disappointed in her, rather he just didn't want to talk about it. Harry, he could handle. Hell, he'd prefer to talk to Draco about sex, but Hermione was not only a girl — leaving him a bit clueless how to proceed from a fatherly position — she was a bit intimidating when she got angry and defensive, not that he'd admit such a thing. He also had Regulus and Marlene to think about, wondering what they would have wanted him to do for their daughter at any given moment. Often times, he fell back on Marlene's side knowing that the little Gryffindor would have been much more relaxed with Hermione than Reggie.

He groaned and put his head in his hands. "Why do I need to know this?"

"Because you're my Paterfamilias and Draco seems to be terrified of you finding out that he . . . well, had the milk before buying the cow," she said.

From the other room, Remus laughed loudly, having overheard the last phrase. The werewolf peered from around the corner and frowned. "Sorry," he said. "Werewolf hearing," he offered as an excuse and Hermione smile but rolled her eyes.

Sirius huffed. "Maybe he _should _be terrified," he pointed out. "Pureblood wizards think they can do whatever they want with half-blood and Muggle-born witches because their parents might not know and understand the old ways. It's a shameful thing."

"A shameful thing that you exploited yourself on numerous occasions, Padfoot," Remus said. "You've no right to be upset with the boy over this. Hermione is a smart young witch who would likely have truly injured him had he forced her in any way," he added and looked up at the little witch who nodded in agreement. "Besides," Remus pointed out. "If it were Harry sitting there telling you that he'd had sex with some witch, you'd be clapping him on the back for it."

Sirius nodded. "I know, and I'm the first to admit that I'm a little sickened by the fact that I'm falling into the double standard here but . . . I can't seem to help it. I want to help it, believe me. I'm being much too . . . ornery old man about this," he said with a grimace.

"What if Harry and Hermione had ever gotten together?" Remus asked. "How would you have felt?"

Sirius and Hermione both blanched at the suggestion, but Sirius was the one to speak. "Very conflicted. Can we get back to the point?"

Hermione sighed. "Draco . . . you're not going to hurt Draco, are you?"

"Not unless he gives me a reason to," Sirius admitted, shrugging. "Even then, I'm pretty sure as a professor I'm not allowed. Minnie might have words for me," he said and smirked. "You're a grown witch, Hermione and he's . . . we all know how you feel about one another. Still, if he's having some issues, I'll be more than happy to talk with him," he added, desperate to switch the gender on his conversational partner during this discussion.

She beamed up at her uncle and flew into his arms once she'd set her cup and saucer to the side. "Thank you, Sirius," she said. "I'm just . . . I'm so glad that this is the biggest problem I've had today. No war, no Dark Lords, no Mountain troll in the bathroom," she said and laughed. "Just semi-typical boyfriend issues that are easily remedied by a well meaning family member."

Sirius grinned. "I'm so glad that this is your biggest worry, princess," he admitted. "And I'm happy to do it for you."

"Severus should be there as well," she pointed out.

Sirius frowned. "I'm less happy."

oOoOoOo

Draco should have been used to women that took matters into their own hands.

He was eight when Pansy had come to the Manor with her parents for a garden party and when the elves wouldn't allow them to have an extra slice of cake, it was Pansy who'd walked right up to the table and pushed it over, wrecking the whole thing. It was sometime toward the end of fifth year when Montague had been shoved in the Vanishing Cabinet and essentially had his brain broken, that Daphne had thrown her hands up in frustration and tracked down the Weasley twins to demand to know what they'd done to the boy. Witches were always taking action when men stood around and complained about things needing to be done.

He shouldn't have been surprised that Hermione had done the same.

He wasn't, however, pleased.

"You had sex with my niece," Sirius Black stated, glaring across the Potions classroom at Draco, who looked up at his godfather in hope of some defence but the Potions Master stood, staring at his nails as though he'd found something stuck beneath one.

"I . . . yes, sir."

Sirius smirked. "I suppose you'll be expecting . . . what? A challenge? A duel to avenge her honour? An interrogation as to whether or not you worked Dark Magic on the girl?" When Draco paled, Sirius scoffed loudly. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked. "Snape. Is he fucking kidding me?"

Snape sighed loudly. "I still don't know why I needed to be here for this."

"What the hell did your father teach you, boy?" Sirius asked Draco. "Kids fool around in broom closets. It's a fact. I've got my own name carved into the doorframe of at least thirty closets in this castle alone and while I did eventually think that one father or two might like to hex my arse, I wasn't anywhere near afraid of them as you look to be of me right now."

"Bravery and foolishness do go hand in hand," Snape pointed out with a sneer.

Sirius rolled his eyes and ignored the man. "Draco, Hermione makes her own decisions and boundaries with your relationship. You'll only ever have a problem with me if you cross those boundaries without her permission."

Draco nodded and swallowed hard. "I . . . I thought you'd think that . . . because I was a Death Eater."

Snape looked up at that and sighed.

Sirius nodded in understanding. "You don't have Dark Magic in you, kid. Hate to break it to you, not like . . ." He sighed. "I know that the war did a number on you. That you had to do some awful things you think are unforgivable —"

"I _did _and they _are_," Draco pointed out.

"Well," Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "War's over. You've been to trial. Nothing to be done but to move forward. You . . . you remind me of him, you know. My brother," he said, his voice softening.

Draco looked up, eyebrows raising. He hadn't known much of Regulus Black, only what he'd been told by his mother growing up and lately by Hermione as she read her father's diaries, but what he _did _know was that being compared to the man made him feel . . . honoured. "I . . ." he paused and looked over to his godfather.

Snape nodded. "There is a . . . resemblance, of sorts," he said with a shrug. "You have the informal approval of her Paterfamilias and godfather, I would suggest moving forward."

Draco nodded. "Do you . . . do you think her father would have approved?"

Sirius laughed and Severus actually chuckled.

"Not on your life, mate," Sirius said.

Snape shook his head. "Regulus Black would have torn you to pieces, put you back together — slowly — and then delivered you back to his daughter but only after Obliviating you. He'd feel guilty about it, but . . . the man was not one to be trifled with. He had very specific hopes regarding his daughter and keeping her away from Malfoys was at the top of that list."

Draco swallowed hard. "He . . . he knew about the arrangement."

Snape nodded. "I assume so. He told me once that he'd done something very foolish in his youth and often asked after your family, _you _specifically, once you'd been born. He did _not _want this arrangement to be made."

The blonde frowned. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to react to that."

"React however you please," Snape said. "His issues were with your father, not you."

Draco paused and looked up at his godfather. "Do I want to know what those issues were?" he hesitantly asked.

Snape remained silent for several long moments before shaking his head and answering, "No, you do not."

There was an awkward silence that filled the room and Sirius was fidgeting uncomfortably between the two Slytherins. "Well, my job here is done. Said my piece, hopefully drove a point or two home for you," he said to Draco before clapping the boy on the shoulder. "Relax a bit, yeah? The only thing you need to worry about with me is that essay on the Principle of Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance that's due next week."

Snape looked up, wide-eyed at the statement as though he were completely shocked that Sirius Black, of all people, was taking his job as a professor seriously.

Draco raised a brow. "I thought that essay was due this week?"

Sirius blinked and squinted his eyes in deep thought and Snape scoffed loudly. "You might be right about that," the Animagus admitted and looked over at Snape who was shaking his head. "I know," he said with a chuckle. "I'm not sure what Minerva was thinking either, making me a professor."

Snape, clearly wanting to say something cruel to his childhood rival, paused to contemplate the fact that he had agreed to attempt to get along with the idiot for Hermione's sake. "At least you're not Lockhart."

Sirius grinned and then looked back to Draco, not wanting to linger on the fact that Snape essentially just complimented him. "So, are we good?" he asked the boy.

Regardless of what Sirius had told him, Draco sighed, his shoulders heavy with burden once again as his thoughts got the best of him. "I'm not good enough for her," he said quietly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "That is not for us to say."

Draco sighed in frustration. "It's just that —"

"That's not for _you _to say either," the older wizard continued, cutting Draco's words off. The blond boy looked up at his godfather, their eyes meeting. "That is a decision best left to the witch in question I believe. You're worried about hurting her again. You shouldn't. _Of course_ you'll hurt her again, it is the very nature of relationships. But do give the girl more credit. She's resilient," he said with an annoyed frown. "I should have known she'd be a Gryffindor from the beginning."

oOoOoOo

Draco stood outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, staring up at the painting while toeing the ground anxiously.

He'd left the company of Sirius Black and his godfather hours earlier and wandered through the halls of the castle, hands in his pockets as he contemplated his life and all the decisions he'd made up to that point. His father had always driven home the point of purity. Saving himself for his betrothed who would "be a witch of unbridled purity herself". It was unlike many of the other pureblood families and Draco had, at the time, been grateful that Theo and Blaise were respectful of the individual family traditions instead of teasing him about it.

_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_, Draco thought to himself, repeating his family words in his head as he moved through the castle. _Purity Will Always Conquer_. It hadn't just been about blood, he realised. His father had meant purity of every action, every deed. Pure didn't mean virtuous. It meant firm, obedient, clean, intentional, and direct. He'd been told that staining himself or that of his future wife would be a sin against the purity of both his family and hers. It was one of the reasons why he'd been so terrified of Hermione's uncle finding out. He should have known that Sirius's issues would have nothing to do with Draco's personal demons.

"You're out past curfew," the portrait guarding the Gryffindor common room told him, pursing her lips and staring down at him with a disappointed look.

He turned his gaze up at the painting. "Are you not going to let me in?" he asked her curiously.

Her stern expression faded somewhat and she whispered, "I've always been a sucker for a good romance," and then the large frame swung forward when he muttered the password, revealing an entrance behind the portrait.

Stepping into the large common room for the first time, Draco grimaced at the temperature and immediately removed his robes, leaving him in his white Oxford shirt and pressed trousers. _Gods, how can they all live up here in this heat?_ he wondered to himself. The room was spacious yet comfortable and cluttered with an overabundance of fluffy armchairs, long sofas, and the largest collection of pillows Draco had ever seen, in a variety of colours ranging from red to scarlet to crimson to maroon.

The room was empty, dark, save for the light coming from the large fireplace in the corner of the room, and any noise echoed off of the walls. So when Draco heard footsteps coming down the stairs to the far left, he turned and watched as Ron Weasley appeared at the foot of the staircase to fetch a forgotten jumper from the back of a nearby chair.

The redhead looked up and the boys met each other's gaze.

"Malfoy."

"Weasley."

Ron's focus flickered away from the Slytherin to the back of the room where a long sofa had been turned away from the fireplace, facing instead the large window against the back wall, moon hanging high in the sky, only partially hidden by the crushed velvet curtains that hung down from the ceiling. The blonde focused his gaze and could see long black curls flowing over the arm of the sofa.

"She sleeps down here sometimes," Ron said. "Falls asleep in front of the fireplace writing essays or reading. We usually put up Silencing Charms and then shift the sofa so no one bothers her. She doesn't sleep well so . . ." he nervously spoke, scratching at the back of his head. "So it's good when she rests."

Draco nodded in thanks and then, as Ron turned to go back up the stairs, he called after the redhead. "You're not going to pitch a fit for me being out past curfew? I'd have thought you'd be hell bent on watching Slytherin lose House points."

Ron chuckled. "Trying not to be too much of a hypocrite these days," he admitted. "I'm just waiting for Harry to get back with his Invisibility Cloak so I can sneak off to Ravenclaw Tower."

Draco made a face and Ron laughed before disappearing back up the stairs.

The Slytherin turned and made his way across the room, walking around the large sofa and looking down at his witch, sleeping soundly with one of her father's diaries in her limp hand, nearly hanging to the floor. He reached down and pulled the book gently from her grip, glancing at the faded black ink briefly.

_. . . told the house-elf that she could braid her own hair this morning. So independent and stubborn, my girl. She looked a proper mess, curls sticking out in every which way and it took a series of charms to get the hair tie dislodged from the knot she'd created. It amazes me how she walks around the cottage like she owns the place and barely has need of me. _

_Then the sun sets and she crawls into my bed because she can't stand to sleep alone — or maybe she knows that I can't — and she curls her tiny fists up against me, pushing her wild curls into my face the same way her mother used to, mumbling, "Goodnight, Papa," before drifting off without a care in the world. _

_Perfection. Wild, untamed, stubborn perfection. My Hermione._

Draco closed the book and set it down on a nearby table then knelt down in front of the sofa and his sleeping witch, reaching out to tenderly push a few of her wild black curls away from her face, a smile on his own as he watched her nose scrunch up at his touch. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead wondering if one day she'd be able to overlook the ridiculous betrothal contract and perhaps, if he begged — likely on his knees — she really would marry him. Not because of Blood Magic or a contract, but because she wanted to.

Staring at her, he thought that he'd very much like to go to sleep each night, looking at her peaceful face.

Slowly, Hermione's eyes opened and she blinked away the tired and smiled when she focused her gaze on the wizard. "Mmm . . . have a good chat?"

Draco scoffed. "You tattled on me to your uncle."

She nodded, closing her eyes once again and relaxing into the cushions. She reached out, lacing her fingers with his and Draco brought her hand to his lips. "Are you all right now?" she asked him. "Or are we still worried that someone in my family is going to suspect that you deflowered me for dark purposes?"

He smirked. "I may not have used your virginal blood for Dark Magic, but you're naive to think I hadn't been thinking of dark purposes at the time," he said, a bit teasingly.

Hermione snorted and tugged him forward until he was leaning the majority of his weight on the sofa beside her. "Prat," she said. "You were just as nervous as I was at the time. And it wasn't dark. Nothing about what we did was dark. It was —"

"Magic," he whispered.

"Mmm," Hermione smiled. "You're cold," she said and snuggled her face into his chest as he adjusted himself on the sofa to lay directly beside her. "I like it."

Draco smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. "Well, it's a bloody furnace up here. Do you lot have a dragon locked away in the next room, breathing fire onto the walls?"

She chuckled softly and then yawned. "Better than a giant squid," she mumbled, curling her hands against his chest, exhaustion making her forget that he didn't belong in Gryffindor Tower, especially after curfew. "Sorry I told," she whispered.

"Don't be," he said, smiling as he looked up to see Winston, the little house-elf, appear with a blanket in her hands. She looked at Draco and hesitantly approached the sofa and, with his nod of approval, draped it over the couple, smiled brightly and then silently vanished.

"Goodnight, Draco," Hermione mumbled as she cuddled herself into the blanket and against Draco's chest, just before falling back asleep.

He kissed the top of her head, black wild curls tickling his nose. "Perfection," he whispered against her hair. Wild, untamed, stubborn perfection. "My Hermione."


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Thanks for all the wonderful comments! Also for those of you who voted in the Energize WIP Awards. This story won 2nd place! Thank you so much! Oh, for those who asked, my new tattoo can be viewed on my twitter, Pinterest, or tumblr accounts. I love it!

Q&amp;As - **Djomar**, Draco, despite being raised to view purity the way he was, still slept with Hermione during sixth year because he was a teenage boy with impulse controls and thought he'd be dead by the end of the year. At that point he felt he had nothing to lose (and was really only working on the cabinet at that point to try and delay the inevitable) and decided to do whatever he wanted (regarding Hermione) because it's not as though he thought he'd live long enough to see his wedding to Astoria take place.** G the Headmaster**, LOL! Minerva is at her wits end with running the school in the aftermath of war. If you thought Dumbledore had a problem finding a teacher every year for DADA, Minnie finding a replacement for Transfig post war is just as hard and despite being a giant child, Sirius really is incredibly talented at Transfiguration. To become an Animagus at fifteen, one would have to be.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-Five

_Evanesco_

* * *

**October 1981**

Regulus sat at the small round table in the middle of the kitchen at Iliad Cottage, parchment strewn about the place and tall carafe of pumpkin juice in the center of the table, because Hermione had insisted that he stop drinking so much firewhisky, or as she had coined it the "funny smelling brown liquid", and Meela had agreed with her. Being backed up by house-elves made the girl a right menace. "All right," he said, looking down at a notebook in front of him listing dates, locations, and names, "so Christmas he'll make his move. You're sure?"

Severus, looking exhausted and burdened, shook his head. "No. And it makes me unbearably nervous."

Regulus nodded. "As it should. This is . . . is Dumbledore ready?"

His friend sighed in frustration and reached for his glass of pumpkin juice, taking a sip and then frowning as he realised — and not for the first time that night — that his drink was also non-alcoholic. "I'm not told enough information from _either _side. The Order consists of people who've hated me since I was eleven, or people who've _learned _to hate me over the years and now only barely tolerate my presence because Dumbledore tells them to play nice with the turncoat."

"And Evans?"

Severus sneered. "Potter," he corrected and then his bitter expression gave way to something of sadness. "She . . . she apologised to me. For not offering me forgiveness after the . . . incident."

Regulus remembered how the man had grieved the loss of his childhood friendship with the ginger witch. "Good," Regulus said, still a touch defensive over the pain his best friend had endured due to the forgiveness that the redhead had withheld from Severus for all these years.

Still, Snape frowned, looking positively disheartened. "It won't . . . it doesn't matter. She's married now."

Regulus rubbed his thumb against the wedding band still resting on his own hand, something he vowed he would never be parted from. "Don't be a prat," he told Severus. "She was your friend for years before you realised you wanted her to be more than that. She . . ." he sighed and pressed against his wedding ring harder. "Don't turn away a friendship. Be grateful for what you get."

Severus looked up, noticing Regulus fiddling with the band on his finger. He nodded in understanding. "I will."

When the uncomfortable silence passed, Regulus turned his attention back to the notes. "How's he going to do it?"

"The plan that I know," Severus growled bitterly, both men still furious that Severus had not been let in on the plot of the McKinnon's murders. The Dark Lord was spreading his secrets out amongst his followers. No one person knew everything about the man or what he was planning. It was a smart move on the Dark Lord's part, and positively enraged the pair who were desperate that he should fall. "The plan that I know," he repeated, this time his voice a touch more collected, "is that he's hoping to get through to the Secret Keeper."

Regulus nodded. "My brother."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Who else?"

The younger wizard ran his hands through his long black hair and stared down at the notebook in front of him where his brother's name was underlined multiple times. Sirius was a target. Not only because of who he was, but because of who he was connected to. Best friend to Potter and his wife. Godfather to their kid who supposedly had the power to destroy the Dark Lord. "Shit," he groaned. "That makes me nervous. Sirius won't give up his friends. He's too loyal for that. He'd die first."

Severus nodded in agreement. "Then the plan will be to kill him."

Regulus didn't flinch at the words, but internally he was screaming. He'd already lost too much. Lost his family, his freedom, his wife. Severus was half certain himself that he wouldn't survive whatever was to happen in the near future. Regulus wouldn't lose his brother. Not again. "So you find out when the Dark Lord plans to make his move," he said. "I'll Apparate out and track down Sirius. I'll stun him if I have to," he insisted. "Drag his arse back here and lock him in the basement until it's all done and over with. The Dark Lord will be short one Secret Keeper and just angry enough to be weak and unsuspecting of an ambush. _That's _when you get Dumbledore and the Order."

Severus's expression was cold and hard and one of great determination. This plan needed to work. They couldn't live like this any longer. The world couldn't live like this.

"Papa?"

Regulus turned and smiled as his daughter stepped into the kitchen, rubbing her fists into her sleepy eyes, the large nightgown that Meela had dressed her in before bed had been tossed aside and replaced with one of his old Slytherin Quidditch t-shirts that hung well past her knees on her tiny frame. Regulus opened his arms to his daughter as Severus pulled all the parchments together and out of the way. "Come here sweetling."

Hermione crawled into her father's lap, burying her face into his chest and reaching up to curl a lock of his black hair around her tiny finger.

"Why are you awake young lady?" Severus said, leaning across the table to give her a teasingly stern look.

She giggled, not intimidated by her godfather in the slightest. "Wanted a story," she replied.

Regulus kissed the top of her head. "You could have called for Meela, little princess."

Hermione shook her head stubbornly and clutched at his hair tighter. "Want you."

He sighed and held her closer, but adjusted her small body in his arms so that she faced the table as he disentangled her hand from his hair. "Papa's doing something very important with Uncle Severus," he told her, "but when we're done, I'll come and read Babbity Rabbity, all right?"

She nodded but then looked at the stack of paper near her godfather. "What's important?" she asked, pointing to the parchment, spotting a quill sitting there next to a notebook. Her eyes widened and Severus glared at her, remembering two weeks ago when she'd gotten a hold of his phoenix feather quill and used it to draw a snake on her arm, trying to duplicate the tattoos that both her father and godfather had without knowing the meaning behind the mark. He stared at the girl and slowly pulled the quill further out of her reach and she giggled at his response.

"We . . . gods," Regulus sighed, "how do you explain something like this to a two-year-old?"

"You don't," Severus said. "It's asinine to try. She's a toddler. She has the memory of a puffskein."

Hermione laughed loudly. "I'm not a puffskein!"

He reached across the table touched her nose. "And what are you then?"

"Your favourite," she replied knowingly.

Severus scoffed and Regulus laughed. "Well . . ." the surly man said, "that may or may not be true," he reasoned and, when Hermione jumped down from her father's lap to crawl into his own, he grimaced. "No, no . . . I don't need hugs. I don't like . . ." he sighed in defeat as she wrapped her arms around him and toyed with the hair on the nape of his neck affectionately. "Oh, very well."

Regulus smirked. "Softie."

Severus ignored the comment and looked down at the parchments and notebook. "If it should go bad?" he asked his friend.

Regulus frowned. "Like we planned. We meet here as always. If I don't return within twenty-four hours, have Meela come and track me down," he said. "She's been ordered to protect Hermione until either one of us comes to take her place, at which point she'll serve to track down the other and then we reconvene at that point."

Severus nodded. "Two months. It doesn't feel like enough time."

"It's not."

oOoOoOo

**October 31st, 1981**

Severus burst in the front door of Iliad Cottage, looking pale and a mixture of terrified and angry. "He's moving!" he shouted loudly, drawing Regulus out of the kitchen where he'd been carving pumpkins with Hermione. "He's going tonight!"

Regulus stood, wand in hand, gaping at his friend in shock. "What?! What do you mean . . ."

"I mean he's going after them tonight!" Severus snapped and began pacing in the room, running a hand through his shiny black hair. "The Lestranges were just sent out to hunt down the Longbottoms. The rest of us have been tasked with distracting known Order members. He's going after them tonight! Fuck!" he screamed and picked up a nearby empty glass, launching it across the room and watching as it shattered on the wall.

"Papa?" Hermione's tiny voice whispered from the doorway and both men turned to see her staring at them with wide, frightened eyes. She looked worried, as though she wanted to run to her godfather and make him feel better, as he was clearly upset, but also his tone of voice and volume had clearly scared her, and she was, instead, running into her father's arms for protection.

Regulus held her tightly and kissed her head. "Hermione," he whispered, "go to your room and stay with Meela."

"No!"

"Hermione . . ." he tried to use a stern voice but couldn't bring himself to do so. "Love . . . I will be back, all right?" he promised her, pulling away so that he could look into her eyes, grey like his own. "I have to go and help Uncle Severus with something very, very important. Something . . . something your mother would have been very proud of me for."

Hermione, hearing her father speak of her mother, frowned deeply and pulled at his hair anxiously. "You'll come back?"

He kissed her forehead. "I swear to you, love. Now go and stay in your room with Meela until I get home, okay?" he said and moved to put Hermione down but she clung to him desperately.

Snape was on edge. "Regulus we have to go."

Regulus nodded and reluctantly pried Hermione's hands off of him. "I love you, sweetheart," he said, kissing her forehead and each of her round cheeks and tried to ignore the fact that her eyes were filled with tears.

"Love you," she whispered back just as Meela walked out of the hallway and took her hand. Regulus shared a look with the house-elf, and Meela nodded gravely before pulling Hermione away.

Regulus turned and grabbed his cloak, throwing it over his shoulders before reaching for his wand and securing it to a holder against his right forearm. "Last I heard, Sirius was holed up in a flat near Diagon Alley. I'll track him down there."

"And what if the Dark Lord finds your idiot brother before you do?"

Regulus's lips formed a tight line at the words and he had to take a breath to calm his nerves. "Then . . . then I go to end it all myself. You get Dumbledore and . . . and take care of Hermione if this goes south. Keep her out of sight," he demanded as they stepped out the front door, slamming it shut behind them. "I'll see you on the other side of this," Regulus said, turning to face his friend.

Severus swallowed hard. "Don't let anyone make a fuss when I die."

Regulus forced a laugh and then embraced his friend. "Where's your Gryffindor spirit?" he asked.

Severus scowled. "You're not funny," he said and the two friends took one last look at one another before Disapparating away.

oOoOoOo

**November 9th, 1981**

Severus stumbled through the front door of Iliad Cottage, stinking of firewhisky and whatever brand of Muggle scotch he'd found in his father's old cupboard at Spinner's End, locked away in the master bedroom that Severus still hadn't moved into, despite the old man being dead for some time now. He hadn't eaten more than a few meals since it had all gone tits up on Halloween. Since . . . since they'd won and they lost and he _fucking _lost.

"Regulus!" he shouted for his friend. "You . . . we . . . we failed and you've been . . . she's gone," he mumbled, forcing himself to be angry rather than grief-stricken as he had been for more than a week. Gods, it had only been a week since Lily had been murdered. Since the Dark Lord killed Potter and her and the boy . . . "The boy survives," Dumbledore had told him when he'd fallen at the man's feet and begged for death. Told him that Lily's son lived as though that was somehow supposed to lift his spirits and make him say, "Well, at least there's that." Severus didn't care that Lily's son had lived. _She _had died. Her husband had died. Sirius Black was to blame and Regulus fucking failed! They'd both failed.

_Fuck_ . . . what had happened?

"The Dark Lord is dead and she's still gone and I . . . fuck! Regulus!"

"Master Snape?" the small house-elf whispered as she poked her head from around the corner, watching with wide eyes as Severus stumbled around the living room before collapsing onto the sofa where he planned on staying until he and Regulus could come up with a plan. He'd been spared Azkaban thanks to Dumbledore's word, but Regulus . . . there was no saying how that would work out.

"Meela . . . get me a drink and . . . and get Regulus."

Meela worried the edge of her tea towel apron in her hands nervously as she spoke. "Meela . . . Meela has not seen Master for many days."

Severus looked up, instantly sobering at her words. "What? Where'd he go?"

"With you."

His mouth fell open. "With . . . he never returned?" he asked her. She shook her head and Severus ran a hand through his hair.

_Halloween night had been an absolute mess. The Dark Lord had sent his Death Eaters to attack the Order. Severus had gone to Dumbledore, waiting for word from Regulus that Sirius Black was secured. When he was with the Headmaster, the old wizard clutched at his chest and frowned deeply informing Severus that a charm he'd placed on Lily and James had been alerted._

"_No," Severus said and then watched in horror as the world fell to pieces. Ten different Patronuses came flying through the window, each shouting a variety of updates, pleas, and angry words. _

"_. . . James and Lily, it can't be true!"_

"_. . . the boy, have you heard if the boy . . ."_

"_Where will he go? Albus, what do we do . . ."_

_And then the Aurors had shown up._

_Severus, unable to return immediately to Iliad Cottage as promised, was taken into immediate custody with Dumbledore's vow that freedom would follow as soon as Harry Potter was safe and secure. When Severus was dragged through the Ministry of Magic, he was shoved into a cell between Lucius and the Lestranges. Both brothers remained silent, but Bellatrix was screaming in delight, telling anyone who would listen the details of how she had broke the Longbottoms. _

"_How can you cry out in joy at a time like this!?" Karkaroff had snapped at her. "The Dark Lord is dead and we're all bound for Azkaban you stupid woman!"_

_"Our Lord will rise again! And you will be punished for your lack of faith, Igor!" Bella had cackled back at him. "Perhaps he will let me be the one to do it!"_

"_Is it true?" Lucius whispered. "Is he . . . is he really gone?"_

_Severus nodded, not that Lucius could see. "Where are Narcissa and Draco?" he asked, eager to know if his godson had been harmed by either angry Death Eaters looking for vengeance or angry Aurors looking to punish._

"_Safe at home," Lucius whispered. "Cissa . . . she's not marked and I went quietly when they showed up."_

"_When they showed up?" Severus asked. "I take it you did not follow orders and do as you were told?"_

_Lucius scoffed. "I did what I had to do to keep my family safe. And where were you when our Lord fell?"_

_Severus sighed. "Where I was told to be," he said though he didn't mention who had given the order._

_He didn't know how long he'd been in the cell when the Aurors started whispering and the running down the long stretches of hallways, shouting, "Sirius Black! It's not possible! He was their best friend!" Severus leaned forward and paid attention, eagerly looking for word on Regulus, though it was unlikely that the supposedly deceased Black heir would make a reappearance this soon after the Dark Lord's death. Still, the whole of the Ministry was gossiping, spreading what could have been rumours or truth for all Severus knew. What seemed to be a commonality on every tongue was that Sirius Black had murdered Peter Pettigrew and a group of Muggles and had been found, half-mad, shouting that the deaths of the Potters was on his hands._

_Severus had assumed that Regulus didn't get to his brother in time and would be waiting at Iliad Cottage to make their next move._

"He . . . I thought that he didn't get to . . . his brother turned on his friends," Severus told Meela, "and I thought he . . . where is he?"

She frowned. "Meela does not know. Meela stays with Missy Hermione."

"Hermione," his eyes widened and he stood immediately. "Shit. Is she all right?"

The elf looked down. "Missy Hermione very sad. Misses her Papa."

"I'll stay with her. Go and . . . go and get Regulus."

She hesitated. "Meela . . . Meela cannot."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean you cannot? He's your Master. An elf can always Apparate to their Master. Now go."

"Meela cannot sense him. Master Regulus is . . ."

A chilling coldness flooded through his veins. "No," he said. He couldn't lose Lily and Regulus. Not both of them. "I . . . you are certain?"

"Meela is sorry."

Severus took a long moment to compose himself. He thought he should have cried in mourning for his fallen friend, but Lily's death had stolen every last tear. "Umm . . . Meela go and fix food for Hermione and umm . . . leave me with . . . with my goddaughter for a while," he told the elf and then walked the short distance to Hermione's room, opening the door to find the little witch sitting in the corner of the room, toying with a stuffed owl in her small hands. At the creak of the door, she looked up and her eyes brightened. "Uncle Sev!" she shouted and then ran directly into his arms. Unlike usual, where he tried to keep her at a slight distance, he scooped up his goddaughter and held her as close as humanly possible. She and Draco were all that he truly had left in this world.

"Hello, Hermione," he whispered.

"Where's Papa?"

"He . . . I didn't bring him with me."

"Go get him," she said and pointed to the door as though her words were a direct order.

"I . . . I cannot," he said, doing his best to hide the grief from his expression. "He . . . _I _will look after you now. For now. Until . . . shit."

oOoOoOo

**December 23rd, 1981**

He waited as long as possible, hidden away at Iliad Cottage with Hermione, Meela there to care for them both as he grieved for his friends and did his best to help the girl understand that her father was dead. Though he still did not know how. It wasn't as though he could request an investigation. Regulus had been pronounced dead years earlier. He supposed that Blood Magic could be used to track him down, but Severus was being highly monitored, the Aurors even going so far as to put a Tracking Charm on his wand for a short probationary period. Even still, he would have to use Hermione's blood to perform any kind of spell and he wasn't going to cause harm to the girl, nor let anyone else even know she existed.

They had planned for this, after all.

When Dumbledore's owl tracked him down during a visit to Spinner's End for potion supplies, he'd taken the letter and sighed in frustration. His time for grieving was going to be over soon and Hogwarts would expect it's new Potions Master to arrive at the beginning of the year. Slughorn was eager to retire and had only agreed to stay on an extra year because Albus had begged him to. But the war had left the old coot paranoid and he claimed his sadness over the loss of so many former students was too much to take and he was ready to part ways with the school. Apparently, Slughorn could leave Hogwarts claiming grief, but Severus could not.

So he did what Regulus asked and went in search of Muggles to take Hermione. He'd investigated a few lingering around an adoption agency with paperwork in hand. But it was only when a man called to his wife, "Helen," that Severus attention was grabbed. Helen. The stupid name Regulus had called Marlene. Helen Granger was a kind woman, both she and her husband were dentists and well off and healthy for their age, but unable to conceive a child of their own. Severus had waited for the Tracking Charm to be removed from his wand, thankfully just in time, and he placed several detailed and complicated Memory Charms on the Muggles, before packing up Hermione's things.

"Where's Meela?" the little witch said as she clung to Severus's robes after catching her breath followed the Side-Along Apparition.

"I have dismissed her for now," he said. "You and I are taking a trip into the Muggle world and elves cannot be seen by Muggles."

Hermione frowned. "Are Muggles scary?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. Don't be silly."

"My hair feels funny," she frowned and reached up to touch the ball of frizz on her head. Severus was quite good at glamours, but not as well as Regulus had been, and changing the girl's colouring had been complicated. Black genetics ran deep and he'd had to anchor the charm to her magical core in order for it to actually stick.

"That's because it's glamoured," he said. "A strong spell too. Took me far too long to figure out how to weave it straight into your magical core when you were sleeping. No one will mistake you for a Black now. You're as average as any other little girl. It would take a very powerful witch or wizard to break this charm and I hope to the gods that we never have need to see your black hair again."

Hermione pouted and then reached up to touch his locks. "I like your hair."

"Lying at such a young age. Impressive," he smirked. "You'll be a Slytherin for certain." The thought calmed him somewhat. After sending word back to Dumbledore about accepting the position at Hogwarts, he was told that he would become Head of Slytherin House. He hated children and the thought of having to be in charge of so many was nauseating. But he figured that in less than ten years both Draco and Hermione would come to Hogwarts, be Sorted into his House, and there he could properly look over them both and fulfill the vows he'd made to their parents to protect them, teach them, and guide them.

Hermione continued to toy with his black hair. "Looks like Papa's," she said softly.

He frowned and then set the girl down on the ground. "Come along, Hermione."

The Muggles were easy to distract while Severus converted their home office into a bedroom for Hermione. He transfigured documents and photographs and did his best to make it appear as though she'd always been there. _Less than ten years_, he reminded himself, and she would be back where she belonged in their world and he could figure out what to do at that point.

When he moved to leave, she realised what was happening and began to scream. "Don't go. Don't go. Don't go!"

"I will . . ." he sighed in frustration, prying her small hands off of his robes and doing his best not to get emotional. "I will see you very soon. These lovely people are going to take very good care of you until you come to Hogwarts. Then, and only then, can we . . . can I see you. It's too dangerous. Your father is gone and your uncle has caused quite a stir with the media. If people were to discover your existence it would bring down hell upon the both of us and I would have to resort to doing terrible things like . . ." he groaned ". . . like trying to explain this situation to a toddler. Hermione, let go."

She flung herself to the floor and sobbed loudly. "I want my Papa!"

Severus, unable to see her cry for another minute — lest he change his mind and take her far away from Britain, labeling himself a potential fugitive — raised his wand at her and whispered, "_Somnus_," and caught her small frame as she fell into a deep sleep. "Forgive me, child," he said, pressing a small kiss to her forehead as he placed the tip of his wand to her temple.

"_Obliviate_."

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry. Horrible. I know. The next chapter we get a little more from Severus's POV and then we'll jump back to our lovely Dramione.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Long chapter today granting many of your wishes to have a Severus POV that covers the years between the first war and the second! Some of the dialogue was taken from the books (specifically Prisoner of Azkaban) and there's a repeat of an earlier chapter from Severus's POV instead of Draco's. Pay special attention to the dates to know where we are in the timeline of this chapter.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-Six

_Annis_

* * *

**December 1998**

Severus made his way to the Headmistress's Office, grateful more than ever that it no longer belonged to him. When he'd been summoned to have a chat with Minerva, a part of him wondered briefly if it had anything to do with the fact that Draco had been occasionally sleeping in the Gryffindor common room the past few weeks. He, unlike most other Heads of House, kept a stringent eye on his charges. It was why it was a rare moment that Slytherins were caught out of bed past curfew, though there were the occasional few that slipped by him either because he was too busy dealing with matters of more importance, or just couldn't care enough to be bothered that some had taken up residence in broom closets from time to time. They were all adequately taught Contraceptive Charms. Regulus's accident — which did turn out to be in his favour in the end — had taught him that any wizard over a certain age needed to know the charm, lest he be forced to deal with future issues as their Head of House.

But the others weren't like him. Minerva, even when she was Deputy Headmistress, was tasked with so many of Dumbledore's usual responsibilities that, when it came to monitoring her own students, her attention to details had been found lacking. What other excuse could there have been for Potter, Weasley, and Hermione to have been caught out past curfew so bloody often? They had a pattern and the old witch had never once caught on and she, unlike him, wouldn't stand to allow for the occasional rebellion in a broom closet. _The worse for Gryffindor_, he thought. Without a little room on the leash to run, her lions often broke half the school when they decided to play with bending the rules, unlike his own House.

Lupin would likely be a bit more attentive when he could, and yet strict when needed. Though, Severus believed, that even if the werewolf knew about Draco and Hermione's current cohabitations in the Gryffindor common room — and not the dorms, because he'd checked — he wouldn't have tattled on the pair to Minerva.

"Good morning, Severus."

"Is it?" he asked in irritation, crossing his arms and burying his hands in his robes as he stared across the large desk that used to be his. He'd left it much the same as Albus had, minus the clutter, but Minerva had turned it into her own place of refuge, nearly wiped clean of the memories of the wizards and witches that had sat there before her. "A Hogsmeade weekend where I'm not tasked with chaperoning and, therefore, should be able to enjoy time to myself, yet here I stand before you."

The old witch pursed her lips and sighed. "I once thought that you would have been a bit more pleasant once your ties to Voldemort were severed."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Your memory must be failing you. I've _always _been this much of an arsehole. Dare I ask why I'm standing in your office?" Minerva replied by removing a sealed black envelope from a drawer. _Oh, that._ "Is there a problem with my formal resignation? I've given it months ahead of time, which is much more than Slughorn gave when I was brought on as Potions Master. You have the rest of the year and summer to find a replacement."

"And you truly want to leave?" she asked, raising a brow at him.

He gave a curt nod in reply. "My job here will be done soon."

"A teacher's job is never done. There is always another generation of students to —"

"The students I _vowed _to educate will be graduating this year," he said pointedly. "I will exit this castle when _they _do."

Her lips parted and she nodded in understanding. "Hermione and Draco."

"Indeed."

She looked over the black envelope and smirked at the colouring, finding it humorous that the man perhaps subconsciously mourned his future retirement. "I'm still cross, you know," she said as she slipped his carefully worded resignation into her desk. When she looked up and caught his curious expression, she clarified, "About Hermione."

"You've mentioned it once or twice over the years."

oOoOoOo

**September 1st, 1991**

He'd been distracted that whole day, knowing that they were coming. Lucius had been beside himself, owling all week about Draco's excitement at arriving to Hogwarts and ever reminding Severus of his duties as the boy's godfather, nevermind that he _also _had to be his Potions Professor as well as Head of House. Between Lucius's owls, Dumbledore and Minerva hovering as per usual prior to the start of term, he also had to deal with Quirrell who appeared to be even more of a bumbling idiot than ever before. It irked him to no end that the man had been given the position that Severus himself coveted.

But no. Not even _that _was the worst part of his week leading up to the start of term feast. Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts and Hagrid hadn't shut up about the wretched boy since he'd fetched him from Lily's sister's house and took him to Diagon Alley.

Severus hadn't bothered to ask Minerva how Hermione's first trip had gone. He wasn't supposed to know the girl, of course. She was a Muggle-born and for all anyone knew, Severus Snape had never heard of Hermione Granger.

When the first years were brought in, he spotted them both immediately. Draco stuck out with his white-blond hair like a wand casting off a _Lumos _in a sea of darkness, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. And there, standing nearby a redhead that could have only been a Weasley and a boy who was the mirror image of James Potter with Lily's eyes . . . was Hermione.

"Granger, Hermione!" Minerva called and Severus did his best not to look as though he cared where the bushy-haired girl ended up. That is, until the damned hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Severus had to forcibly stop himself from hexing someone.

oOoOoOo

**June 4th, 1992**

"I knew it!" Minerva was screaming and had been screaming, specifically at him, since he'd stepped foot into the Hospital Wing to find her hovering over her pet Gryffindors that had been brought in due to injury, magical exhaustion, and stress. Madam Pomfrey had given them each Dreamless Sleep to let them rest, the only thing keeping the children restfully unaware of the pandemonium happening around them as Minerva threatened to shift into her Animagus form, which likely thought itself a massive lion instead of the tiny tabby that it was.

He'd been called when, after Hermione had been brought to the infirmary, Dumbledore had gone looking through the student records to find out how best to contact her Muggle parents to let her know that she'd been injured, but was well looked after. That was when the records revealed that, like Harry Potter himself, Hermione had a magical guardian: Severus.

"I knew it!" Minerva said again, glaring at both Severus — who had kept this secret from her for nearly ten years, and Albus — who had been so distracted with the arrival of Harry Potter that year, that he'd overlooked the fact that the Hogwarts record book indicated that one of his arriving first years, was tied to his Potions Master. Severus had waited all year to be approached about it and when nothing happened, he rolled his eyes and made an under the breath statement to himself about Gryffindors and their lack of attention to details.

"You did not," he said to Minerva.

The witch huffed. "Well, I suspected!" she shouted and her face flushed red with embarrassment. "How common is the name Hermione, after all? And born the same year?"

"The same day as well," he said with a shrug and walked over to his goddaughter to see that she was not injured worse than Pomfrey indicated. "I didn't modify the dates. Only names and appearances."

"She died!" Minerva said, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. "She was . . . the fire. But if Hermione is alive, then . . ."

Severus scowled, angry that the witch was trying to get her hopes up. "Regulus and Marlene are dead," he told her for certain. "I saw Marlene's body myself and Regulus's fully bonded house-elf could not locate him. I believe Sirius Black may have added his own brother to his list of victims. What's one more, after all?" he snapped.

She frowned and took in slow breaths to calm herself. "You have known this entire time."

"I have."

"And never once informed me," she said and walked over to the other side of Hermione's bed, reaching forward and pushing a brown curl from the little witch's face, taking a moment to note the colour and texture. "Long term glamour?" she asked and he nodded. "I know it was not official but . . . this girl . . . Marlene was very dear to me, and Regulus as well in the end, though I doubt the boy would have ever agreed. I thought of Hermione as —"

"A grandchild?" he said and raised a brow.

She bristled and glared at him. "Don't be an arse! A . . . a goddaughter perhaps, though it was never official."

"Well, it _is _official in my capacity as her godfather and magical guardian," he said firmly.

"What do we do?" Minerva whispered.

Severus scoffed. "_We_ do nothing. _You _could, perhaps, dissuade my goddaughter from befriending these two simpletons," he said, gesturing to Weasley who was drooling on his pillow, and Potter who was being guarded by Dumbledore as though Severus himself would hex the boy at any moment. "Perhaps next year her life won't be in peril simply by being in their general vicinity. I've been charged with keeping the little chit properly educated as well as safe, and not only do they lead her into trouble constantly," he said, remembering earlier that year when the sight of his goddaughter next to the body of a mountain troll had nearly given him a coronary, "but conversations with them cannot be at all intellectually stimulating. I'd rather she have gone to Ravenclaw if not Slytherin."

Minerva rolled her eyes, ignoring his insult. "And her parents? The Muggles, I mean?"

"They believe her to be their blood; their only daughter and they love her as such."

"You know of her home life?" she questioned.

Severus nodded. "Of course. _I _wouldn't just drop her off on someone's doorstep and never look back to see that she was being treated properly," he said and cast purposely not-at-all subtle look in Dumbledore's direction to drive home his point. "What do you take me for? For now, she is as safe as she can be all things considered. She's a Muggle-born, and will stay a Muggle-born."

"A Black heir, though," Albus whispered thoughtfully.

Severus turned on the man instantly, wand gripped in hand as he glared at the older wizard. "I will bend to your will over most things, Albus, but when it comes to my godchildren, I have made vows to protect them at _all _costs."

Dumbledore nodded, not appearing in the least bit intimidated, though Minerva looked torn, standing between the two. "Draco is well cared for by magical parents," Albus said. "As a Muggle-born, Miss Granger will find herself in many unfortunate circumstances, especially having befriended Harry Potter. Are you certain you want to take on the responsibility of being her magical guardian?"

Severus scoffed, offended. "I have _been _her magical guardian since she was orphaned, whether you knew about it or not makes no difference. Should I defer the position to you, Albus?" he asked sarcastically. "Because you've done so well in keeping your _own _charge safe and well cared for?" He gestured to Potter, sleeping in the bed, knowing the boy would likely be having nightmares about Voldemort and Quirrell had Pomfrey not given him a potion. "You forget, I knew Petunia Evans for many years."

"She is Harry's family."

Severus rolled his eyes so dramatically it nearly triggered a headache. "Family is so very important, of course," he said with disdain. "And yet I dropped Hermione off with memory charmed Muggles rather than deliver her into the hands of Walburga Black," he added and watched with amusement as Albus did, in fact, flinch at _those _words. "If you'll excuse me, Minerva, Albus, I have things to attend to," he said, casting one last glance back at Hermione before moving toward the doors.

"You'll be interested to know, Severus," Dumbledore called after him, "that it was Miss Granger who figured out your section of the traps guarding the Stone."

Severus scoffed. "Of course it was."

oOoOoOo

**December 26th, 1992**

The year had been going so well. With the exception of a monster in the castle, of course. And then, because she was so very much like her parents, Hermione had done something foolish and ended up in the Hospital Wing _again_, officially ruining his holiday.

"What do you mean, she's a cat?"

oOoOoOo

**May 8th, 1993**

He sat at the edge of her bed in the infirmary, wondering if he'd ever spent as much time in the Hospital Wing as this girl. "It shouldn't have gotten her," he said, purposely not touching her hand like Minerva was doing as though she were merely unconscious and not petrified. "She's . . . she's not a Muggle-born. Not really."

"Neither is Penelope Clearwater," Minerva said, glancing down a few beds away to the other recent victim, "but the pair were found together. She's alive, Severus," the older witch said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just . . . we'll make the potion to revive her and —"

"_I'll_ make it," he snapped and pulled away from her angrily. "I've _been _making it. I never thought I would need to use it on _her_."

She nodded. "I'm going to go and tell the students that the Quidditch match has been cancelled. Potter . . . Potter and Weasley will want to see her."

Severus groaned knowing that if the boys walked into the room and saw him sitting anywhere near Hermione, they'd likely accuse him of being the one who'd hurt her. "Then I'm leaving."

oOoOoOo

**September 9th, 1993**

It wasn't bad enough that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban or that Dumbledore had decided to hire a werewolf — and a specific one at that — to take the position that Severus wanted for his own, but Draco and Hermione had both begun coming into their own. Hermione, who stood up for the downtrodden with a self-righteous tone of voice to rival that of her biological mother, and Draco, who mimicked Lucius's arrogance to absolute perfection. They were both giving him a headache and it was only nine days into the term. Not to mention he'd received an actual Howler from Narcissa that morning, berating him for _allowing _Draco to be injured by a hippogriff, as though _he _were the one in charge of Hagrid and his pets. It had taken speaking to every one of his Slytherins to get the truth out that Draco had essentially been at fault, but Severus couldn't very well say such things.

And now the boy was milking the injury for everything it was worth. In an attempt to ignore his godson who was trying to get under Potter and Weasley's skin, he focused his attention instead on Hermione who was hovering over Longbottom, and with good reason.

"Orange, Longbottom," Severus snapped, ladling some of the boy's potion allowing it to splash back into the cauldron so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

The boy looked to be on the verge of tears and Severus had to compose himself not to appear as though he felt guilty. He never was very good at holding in his temper and often lashed out at the most unsuspecting people. Then again, if this boy was left to his own devices, the entire school would explode at some point in the future.

"Please, sir," Hermione said softly, "please, I could help Neville put it right —"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," he coldly snapped at her and watched as she lowered her gaze, her cheeks turning pink. He fought to forget the image of a two-year-old Hermione, sobbing her heart out at the news that her father would never return to her and then begging Severus not to go, not to leave her with Muggles. Slytherins snickering in the corner at Hermione's expense drew his attention away from the girl and Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ebb away the beginnings of a growing migraine.

oOoOoOo

**June 9th, 1994**

"Give me a reason," Severus whispered, his wand digging into the throat of Sirius Black. The man who, by all accounts, was responsible for the death of Lily. For the death of Regulus as well, as far as he was concerned. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Sirius stopped dead. Lupin, Potter, and Weasley were frozen as well. But Hermione, of course, took an uncertain step toward him and said, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape . . . it . . . it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?"

He sighed in frustration._ If only she knew_, he thought. If only she knew who she was and who this murderer was to her. If only she knew that Sirius Black, her uncle, was likely the cause of her father's death, either by his own hand or merely because Regulus had been so bloody desperate to save the idiot that he'd gotten himself killed in some sort of crossfire. "Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school. You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue," he pleaded with her. Why did he always have to be the bad guy, pointing out the obvious?

"But if . . . if there was a mistake —"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" he shouted at her, a part of him terrified that she'd distract him and Sirius Black would get the upper hand. If he wasn't there to protect the children, there was no telling what Black would do. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face.

Hermione fell silent.

oOoOoOo

**November 13th, 1994**

Rumours were flying in abundance. The Dark Lord was on the rise. Severus didn't know how, but his Dark Mark had begun to blacken again after all these years which only meant the worst was happening. Everything they'd fought for. Everything they'd sacrificed was for nothing. Lily. Regulus and his wife. All for nothing. In addition to the disaster that happened at the World Cup, lead by Lucius no doubt, Severus was receiving daily owls from every Slytherin parent demanding to know one thing or another about their children and how their education would be affected by the stupid Triwizard Tournament. Not only that, but he apparently hadn't thrown enough of a fit in Draco's defense when Alastor Moody had transfigured the boy into a ferret.

"Going soft, are you?" Lucius had accused him and then, like clockwork, the owls began pouring in from parents of his students, many former Death Eaters like himself and he knew he needed to appear on their side should the worst come to pass.

So when he approached class one day and spotted both of his godchildren surrounded by their friends, Hermione covering her face, he knew he was going to have a very bad day.

"Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir —"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Potter shouted.

"— and he hit Goyle — look —"

"Hospital Wing, Goyle," Severus said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Weasley said. "Look!"

Severus stared at his goddaughter who had beaver sized teeth that had grown down past her chin. It was horrendous and he might have flinched had he not been so pleased to see that, despite the hex, the glamours he'd placed on the girl had held up. He looked over at Draco who was grinning smugly. He wanted to smack the boy in the head and made a promise to do so later after a serious lecture about why he was fixated on the little witch. Perhaps, if he was very lucky, he could get Draco to think for himself and maybe change his opinions. For now, however, he had a very unfortunate role to play.

Severus looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference," making certain the children of Death Eaters heard him speak.

She let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight, and Severus hated himself a little bit more.

oOoOoOo

**December 25th, 1994**

Watching her enter the Great Hall on the arm of Viktor Krum was a surreal experience he felt unworthy to witness. He felt as a godfather should, a distant uncle, and perhaps a concerned mentor. Not a father. Never a father. _Regulus should be here for this_, he couldn't help but think to himself as she smiled at her date, blushed prettily, and moved to take her seat beside the Durmstrang student. Severus looked up and glared at the corner where his Slytherins were gathered together. Nott with Miss Greengrass, Zabini with a girl from Ravenclaw, Crabbe and Goyle dateless, but on either side of Draco as he stood beside Miss Parkinson, who was unaware that her date — and _all _of the young men — had their attention drawn to the curly-haired Gryffindor.

oOoOoOo

**February 25th, 1995**

"You're too bold with your words, Draco," he said, glaring at his godson who had been overheard by Dumbledore of all people, telling Viktor Krum that he should have let Hermione drown. As though any of the "captured" were in any real danger. As though Severus hadn't been present when Hermione was put to sleep and placed in that lake — despite angrily shouting at Albus for even suggesting such a thing.

"I'm not sorry for saying it," Draco said with a sneer. "I hate her."

Severus stared at the boy in frustration and then stood, walking around the desk and leaning against it from the other side, towering over the blond wizard. "And tell me why, exactly, do you hate Miss Granger?"

Draco scoffed. "Because she's a Mudblood."

If the word didn't stab him personally in the chest every time he heard it from grown adults that were too set in their ways, hearing it from Draco's mouth was a step too far. He was only a boy. Only a boy and yet close to the same age when Severus had uttered the slur against Lily. "Stupid boy," he said, after rolling up a magazine on his desk and thwacking Draco in the head with it, shaking his own in disappointment. "What an imbecilic reason to hate a witch."

"W-what?" Draco asked, dumbfounded. "But . . . but you hate her too for the same reason."

Severus scowled at his godson, who should have known him better than this. "I do not bother hating fifteen-year-old girls," he said, rolling his eyes as though such a thing were beneath him. "I'm irritated by her presence and her non-stop repetition of quoting textbooks, but hate?" He shook his head. "Hate is a powerful emotion. Now tell me, why do you hate Miss Granger?"

Draco stopped, lost in thought, looking utterly confused. _Try, Draco, just . . . think for yourself for once_, Severus silently urged him. "She's . . . she's a Mudblood. I'm supposed to hate her."

The Potions Master sighed. "Because your father hates Mudbloods?" he asked.

Draco nodded.

"And are you friendly with your father's friends? Acquaintances with his acquaintances? Do you find yourself attracted to witches that your father —"

"No!" Draco blanched. "So . . . so I hate her for . . . she broke my nose last year!"

Snape smirked, knowing that the boy was lying, but he knew better than to push too far too quickly. He'd planted a seed. "There. An appropriate reason. You may go."

oOoOoOo

**June 18th, 1996**

Severus looked up as Hermione breathed in deep, the bandage over her ribcage reflecting the moonlight. He sighed, feeling the weight of his age and his past and his vows sitting on his shoulders like boulders. He wondered what Regulus would have thought had he lived to see his daughter face off against Dolohov, a man who'd once tried to marry his daughter off to Hermione's father. She and her friends, lead by Potter, had handled the Inquisitorial Squad and Umbridge — because they _couldn't _just wait for him to contact the Order — and had broken into the Ministry of Magic and battled Death Eaters.

_Fucking Gryffindors_.

"She'll live," Madam Pomfrey said, patting Severus on the back. "Here's some more Blood Replenishing Potion, if you're headed back to the dungeons," she added, handing him the vial reserved for Draco, who was suffering from prolonged nosebleeds after Ginny Weasley's Bat Bogey Hex earlier that night.

He nodded, sighing as he stood wondering if anyone else wanted to give him another godchild and send him to an early grave from the stress of it all. He couldn't imagine how Molly Weasley survived with seven of her own children. He took the vial and sighed. "Of course," he said, slipping it into the pocket of his robes. "Let me know if she needs anything more brewed." He glanced at the ten potions sitting by her bedside, keeping her alive and then made to leave the infirmary before Sirius Black — who was arguing with Dumbledore over Harry Potter's endangerment due to secrets being kept — noticed him near Hermione's side. "I'll tend to Draco. He needs to be . . . someone should tell him that his father was arrested."

oOoOoOo

**May 6th, 1997**

"Stupid, stupid boy," Severus muttered under his breath as he carried — unsure why he didn't just levitate — Draco's body to the Hospital Wing. He wasn't certain whether he was talking about his own godson who had likely provoked Potter to attack, or the Boy Who Lived himself, who had — somehow — discovered one of Severus's own curses. It, of course, had to be a book. Potions most likely, which would, in fact, explain why Horace was so enamored over Potter's sudden understanding of the subject. Cheating. The boy was clearly cheating and was using Severus's own knowledge and curses to —

"Hermione . . ." Draco mumbled as he fell in and out of consciousness.

Severus frowned. He'd been present when Draco had been hauled in before the Dark Lord over Easter break. Asked about his mission, berated for not letting his godfather aid him in whatever it was the boy had been told to do. Severus knew it was to do with Dumbledore's murder, which Albus had so graciously volunteered him for in Draco's place. Not that Severus wouldn't have done it regardless to save the boy. But something else was in the works and it made the Potions Master uneasy.

It also made him uneasy to watch as the Dark Lord entered Draco's poorly Occluded mind and pull from it the brief glimpses of a weakness. Severus had known about his godchildren finding comfort with one another, and he ignored the voice that sounded too much like Regulus Black insisting that Hermione be separated from the Malfoy boy. He had hope that they could help one another. _Save _one another. Severus would likely be dead by the end of this war and he trusted no one else to look after the pair.

Astoria Greengrass was brought in and threatened; the Dark Lord had allowed Fenrir Greyback to lick the side of the girl's face while Macnair whispered filthy things in her ear, threats and promises of a horrible future if Draco failed in his task. Severus fought the urge to protect the girl, a Slytherin and, therefore, one of his own charges. Astoria cried and Draco fought to control his anger even as his own aunt levelled her wand at him and cast the first of what would be several Crucio's. Severus tried to remain calm and quiet, knowing that standing up and making a scene wouldn't save his godson. As the boy thrashed on the ground, Severus used the distraction to slip into his mind, pulling at the happy memories there, most surrounding his recent relationship with Hermione. He ignored ones that he'd prefer to never see, and instead, found small moments. Little kisses in the corridors, doing homework together in the Room of Requirement, and the occasional brush of fingertips when no one was looking. _Think of this_, he thought, hoping the memories would keep Draco sane through the experience.

Placing Draco in Poppy's care, Severus angrily returned to the bathroom to scream and yell at Potter and demand he retrieve the book he knew he'd been cheating off of. Then he turned toward the dungeons to seek out Nott, who he knew would keep watch over Draco in the infirmary, and would likely turn a blind eye when Hermione inevitably showed up to check on her secret love.

oOoOoOo

**November 1997**

"The Carrows?" Minerva gasped, glaring at him with betrayal and grief in her eyes after the staff meeting.

He'd called everyone into Dumbledore's office — his office now — and informed them all of the changes to the curriculum as per the Dark Lord's request. Only two months into the school year and already a nightmare. He was overloaded with duties to the Dark Lord, to the school, keeping students safe, and working the long game to assist Potter in ending the war, all without being discovered by bloody well anyone! All the teachers complained when he'd informed them that Amycus and Alecto were in charge of detentions now, knowing what that would entail. Very few were silenced with his glares. It wasn't a surprise that Minerva stayed behind to have a word. He was honestly a little shocked that she'd only called him a traitorous murderer six times since his appointment as Headmaster of the school.

"The Carrows are in charge of all the discipline? Are you out of your . . . nevermind, _clearly _you're not right in the head. Likely never have been. I should have known long ago that —"

Severus growled and purposely ignored the portrait of Dumbledore behind him, pretending to be asleep without a care in the world, least of all for the shitstorm that he'd left Severus to clean up. "What you do not know, Minerva, could fill a library as large as this castle."

The witch huffed. "And are you aware that they are not just eager to punish _Gryffindors_? One of my prefects informed me this morning that Mister _Malfoy _refused to cast some of the horrid curses they're teaching them all and that, had it not been for Mister Longbottom speaking out of turn and drawing attention to himself, your own _godson _would have been the subject of some of their _discipline. _You made _vows_, Severus."

"And I am keeping them," he said, clenching his teeth. "One day perhaps, you'll discover how much."

oOoOoOo

**December 1998**

Minerva smiled up at him over Dumbledore's desk — _her _desk. "So . . . the children are grown and you are content to go with them."

He shrugged. "I'd prefer to leave on my own, but someone needs to assist Draco with his new responsibilities and as much as I know Black would love the opportunity," he said, rolling his eyes, "the man barely runs his own estate these days."

"You'll be missed."

He scoffed. "I doubt that."

Severus left Minerva's office and stopped by the greenhouses to fetch a few satchels of collected herbs that Pomona had gathered for his third year classes the following week. On his way back toward the dungeons, he caught sight of the line of students preparing to leave for Hogsmeade. Watching with slight interest as Draco threw Hermione over his shoulder and spun her around while laughing, the little witch audibly scolding the boy, despite the grin on her face. Surrounding them on all sides were Slytherins, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws. Inter-House unity, just like they'd all hoped for.

He watched as Blaise Zabini openly flirted with Ginevra Weasley, the redhead laughing and rolling her eyes at something he said before going to standing beside Longbottom and Finnegan. Ron Weasley was surprisingly smiling at Hermione and Draco's display, his hand wrapped around the small waist of Luna Lovegood. Potter, meanwhile was having a discussion about Quidditch with Daphne Greengrass while Theo Nott nudged Pansy Parkinson, who was glaring at the blond witch as though she'd somehow offended her.

"Draco, you prat," Hermione laughed as she shouted. "Let me go!"

Draco set her down in front of him, smiled and kissed her and then, within hearing distance of everyone gathered together, said, "Never."

While all of the teenagers in front of him groaned loudly, teasing the couple, Severus's mouth twitched slightly upwards at the display.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Back to some good old Dramione. Also, The Debt of Time, Presque Toujours Pur, and Tying the Nott have made it to the 2nd round of voting for the Fanatic Fanfic Awards. I'd love for you all to go vote (even if it's not for me because all fanfic writers deserve a little love). Just google "Fanatic Fanfic Awards" to get to the site.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-Seven

_Amare_

* * *

**December 1998**

The first night that Draco slept in Gryffindor Tower had almost been an accident. He claimed that he had meant to get up sometime in the night and return to the dungeons, but Hermione's warmth had comforted him and he couldn't bring himself to leave her side. When Harry had caught the pair snuggled together on the couch, the black-haired boy had begun to throw a fit until Hermione had asked Harry why he wasn't in bed, to which he blushed, stammered out a belated goodnight, and went up the stairs.

It was infrequent that Draco stayed with her in the Tower, but he decided to do it as often as he could get away with. It wasn't as though they were in her dorm room, after all.

Draco threw Hermione over his shoulder and spun her around while laughing, thrilled to be able to take the witch to Hogsmeade for the first time that year as the tiny village had almost entirely been closed due to repairs needing to be made after the war. He smiled as he spun her, even as she smacked him on the back insisting that she be placed back on her feet. She made some threat about people that would soon be coming to her rescue, and when he turned around to see Ron grinning at them and Harry in deep conversation with Daphne, he laughed. "Unlikely," he told her.

"Draco, you prat," Hermione laughed as she shouted. "Let me go!"

Draco set her down in front of him, smiled and kissed her and then, within hearing distance of everyone gathered together, said, "Never."

Instantly, all of their friends groaned loudly.

"Too cheesy, Malfoy," Ron insisted.

"So lame," Blaise agreed.

Luna smiled brightly and said, "I thought it was sweet," and almost instantly Ron took her hand and brought it to his mouth, grinning like an idiot while everyone else rolled their eyes at the display and suddenly Draco and Hermione were no longer the center of attention in the large group.

They were supposed to have been making plans for what to do in Hogsmeade while walking down, but the boys decided a snowball fight was in order instead, and Draco mistakenly hid behind Hermione thinking that her male friends wouldn't dream of assaulting her. He'd been wrong. By the time they all arrived in the village, soaking wet, they had to pause and offer Drying Charms to one another and then Harry stormed off in a huff when Pansy laughed at the way his hair looked like a pygmy puff after it had been spelled dry. The black-haired witch sauntered off after him, using the excuse that she planned on teasing him some more.

"Where to first?" Hermione asked the group.

Daphne took Theo's arm when it was held out to her. "Well, you two," she said, gesturing to both Theo and Hermione, "will likely need to hit the bookshop, and I want to go to Honeydukes at some point," she insisted.

"Same here," Ron said and Draco forced himself not to sigh at the fact that he'd obviously just invited himself to spend the day with them. Harry would likely return to attach himself as well, once he was done throwing his temper tantrum.

"I need to go to Spintwitches for some more broom polish and maybe a new set of gloves," Ginny said and Blaise turned and grinned at her, likely eager to make a comment about her polishing _his _broom. Before he had a chance to, however, she'd reached out and taken Neville's elbow, tugging him toward her. "Come with me, Neville," she demanded and the boy blushed bright red and smiled at her, leaving Blaise looking positively dumbstruck.

Draco laughed and when Hermione turned to raise a brow at him he smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Right, so let's all go do our individual shopping and then meet up at The Three Broomsticks for lunch?" Hermione asked and smiled when almost everyone nodded in agreement. She didn't even notice the way Draco's brows furrowed and he looked away, angry and embarrassed.

"Hermione," Theo said, "Maybe we can find somewhere else to go to lunch?"

She frowned. "Where? Because I'm not stepping foot inside Madam Puddifoot's and The Hog's Head is still closed," she said, looking down the street where Aberforth had put up a large sign indicating that the bar was closed and that potential customers should find somewhere else to drink in the meantime and to also mind their business. "Why can't we go to The Three Broomsticks?"

"You can," Draco said under his breath bitterly. "_I _can't."

"What?" she asked, spinning around to face him. "What do you mean you . . . Oh."

Draco nodded curtly, reaching down and scratching at the Dark Mark still there on his forearm, hidden beneath his jumper. "Lifetime ban. Obvious reasons," he said and glanced up, his silver eyes meeting Ron's stare as the two wizards were suddenly reminded that less than two years ago, Draco had Imperiused Madam Rosmerta for months and his actions had nearly — albeit accidentally — killed the redhead.

The two continued to stare at one another as though trying to decide whether or not to acknowledge the obvious tension, ignore it entirely, or perhaps drop back into old habits and start shouting and hexing each other. When Draco dropped his eyes to the ground, Ron sighed loudly. "I . . . I think I'll take Luna to Madam Puddifoot's," he said softly to the surprise of everyone in the ground. "We'll see you all back at the castle, yeah?"

Ginny gave Hermione a sympathetic smile and then reached for Neville's hand, dragging him away to Spintwitches, Blaise curiously tagging along after clapping Draco on the shoulder in silent support.

Left there with Theo and Daphne, Hermione straightened her posture and snatched up Draco's hand. "Come on," she said. "I can buy books anytime, but Honeydukes is bound to be packed soon and Daphne might cry if she doesn't get her treacle fudge."

The blond witch grinned at the suggestion and Theo smiled while Draco looked up at his witch, trying not to be obvious in his gratitude for how easily she redirected the attention and altered her plans to fit him. "We can go to the bookshop," he said quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "We won't have time," she insisted and at his confused look, she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "After Honeydukes, you and I have plans."

"For what?" he asked curiously.

She grinned. "Cheering you up."

oOoOoOo

They spent a few hours roaming through the village, buying far too much candy for their own good, restocking their ink and quill supplies, and picking up treats for their familiars — "Leo doesn't seem to like the treats in the owlery," Hermione had said about her small little black and grey bird. Draco didn't think the owl liked much in general, other than Hermione. He'd been nipped at more than once just for sitting too close to her. Then again, the cat was territorial as well and Draco had scratch marks on his legs to prove it. "Don't take it personally," she told him. "He hates everyone except me and Sirius."

"Are we going back to the castle?" Draco asked her as she lead up back up the road leading to Hogwarts.

The witch smirked in reply and her cheeks flushed. "A little detour," she said and then pulled him in a familiar direction that had his eyes widening.

The Shrieking Shack.

When she turned back and smiled coyly at him, he stopped in his tracks and tugged on her hand, pulling her toward him and letting her tiny frame crash into his where he caught her in his arms, holding her still long enough to kiss her soundly. "Didn't know you were one for tradition, Miss Granger," he said when he pulled away long enough to whisper in her ear.

Hermione laughed. "Come on," she said and continued walking toward the old dirt path that lead toward the shack. When Draco hesitated, she turned back and looked at him. "Are you coming?"

He blinked curiously. "But . . . people usually just stand here and . . ." he said, gesturing with his hands and then turning back toward the trees behind them. "Or sneak off into the woods there for privacy."

She grinned. "I was thinking a little more privacy than a few trees," she said with a laugh.

"You don't mean to actually go inside that place, do you?" he asked, gobsmacked.

"Scared?" she teased.

"Yes," he admitted. "I mean . . . it's not likely haunted as they say but . . ."

She stepped forward again, pressing the palms of her hands flat against his chest as she leaned up on the tips of her toes to kiss his lips. "It's not haunted. It's where Professor Lupin goes each full moon to transform. It's how he keeps everyone at the school safe from his werewolf form."

He stared down at her. "And you've been in it before?"

"Twice before this year," she said thinking back to her third year with Harry and Ron and the first time she'd met her uncle Sirius, though at the time she had thought him to be out of his mind and looking to murder her best friend. Then again she'd been in the shack during the final battle, watching her godfather bleed out on the floor and angrily snap at her as she did her best to help save his life. Since returning to Hogwarts, she and Harry and Ron had taken time to slip out to the Shrieking Shack to help clean it up. Erasing the memories of Snape's attack and adding charms and spells of their own to make it a bit more habitable for Remus and Sirius when they came each month to wait out the moon. The dirt was swept away and the torn old bed was cleaned and mended and Hermione added extra security wards around the room where she knew Remus spent the majority of the full moon in. It was surprisingly Ron's idea to add a bookshelf "in case Sirius gets bored" which prompted a long conversation over whether or not dogs could read where Hermione insisted that her uncle was not an actual dog.

"So you're saying," Draco said, stepping through the door to the shack as Hermione dropped her wards, allowing him inside, "that your uncle became an Animagus in his fifth year because his best friend was a werewolf?" he asked skeptically. "I mean . . . I knew he bragged about his skills at transfiguration but I thought that was all ego," he admitted.

Hermione chuckled. "It _is_ ego," she said. "But it's also the truth. Harry's dad became one too. Peter Pettigrew as well," she added as an afterthought.

Draco grimaced. "I knew about him. Some people really do fit their Animagus form."

She nodded.

"Mum and Aunt B . . ." he stopped and looked at her.

Hermione offered him a smile. "You can say her name. I'm not going to burst into tears you know," she said, making her way down the hall to the small sitting room.

"Mum and Aunt Bellatrix, they tried, you know," he said, still frowning as he spoke the witch's name. "Becoming Animagi. Got fairly far through the meditations actually from what they said but then I guess my mum got pregnant with me and it became too dangerous. And Bella . . . well . . . she lacked the patience to go through with it I suppose." He took a seat on a sofa next to Hermione and pulled her into his lap with a smile.

"Did they discover their forms?" she asked curiously.

He nodded. "Mum's a dove," he said with a smirk. "Bella was a viper."

"I'd be a kneazle," she admitted shyly. "I did the meditation to find my form but was too busy to actually work on it. You?"

"Dragon," he said immediately and her eyes widened in shock. "I haven't done the meditations or anything, but I think it's fairly obvious," he said smugly and she laughed and hit him in the arm.

"I don't know, I thought you made a _very _pretty pony when —" she began to say but Draco cut off her words by crushing his lips against hers and drinking in the sweet sigh that escaped her throat when he held her close and ran his fingers up her side.

Unable to pull away from her again, Draco inhaled through his nose to breathe and caught the burning scent of cinnamon that was her hair and it was alluring and addictive and the smell of it, of her, sent tingles and heat all over his body that reminded him of the passion they'd had in sixth year, minus the terrifying fear that went along with always thinking he was going to die due to his ineptitude as a Death Eater.

Now he was thrilled, thrilled to have failed Voldemort in the task of destroying himself. Dumbledore had been wrong, Draco was capable of killing and had unfortunately proven that on more than one occasion when he was dragged to revels, wand practically shoved in his hand and aimed for him, threats toward himself, his parents, and Astoria lingering overhead. He'd fixed the cabinet, let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and had disarmed Dumbledore which allowed Snape to kill the man. He now knew the truth about that night and how his godfather had tried to spare him, had tried to save him, but it didn't hurt any less to know the things he'd done. The things he was capable of doing. But that was where the Dark Lord had failed. Draco knew remorse and hadn't become a monster in the process. There was hope.

She was his hope.

Kissing him like he wasn't tainted and broken and damaged. Kissing him and moaning under him as he pressed her gently back against the sofa, hitching her legs up against his hips as though he were worthy of her trust. When she tilted her hips, brushing herself against the hardness in his trousers, he groaned against her mouth and briefly lost track of his thoughts because the only thing he could think of then was her and the memory of her. How soft her skin was, how sweet she tasted, how perfectly warm and wet and tight and . . . the memory of being inside her, connected to her as intimately as possible, was overwhelming and he struggled to pull his thoughts away because it was important that she know it.

He pulled away, breaking their kiss and stared down at her like she was some curiosity he couldn't quite figure out. Had she always been this way? Been insufferably intelligent and imposing and headstrong? Had it not been for Lucius and the Dark Lord, would he have grown up admiring her traits instead of trying desperately to despise them? Would he have pulled on her pigtails at twelve-years-old to get her attention instead of calling her a Mudblood and saying that he hoped she died? Fuck . . . he'd actually said . . .

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"For being . . . for what I was. Who I was and I . . . I was cruel to you."

She stared up at him in confusion. "Haven't we . . . Draco, we've been through this."

He shook his head. "I've never said it. Not really. You asked once and I . . . I skirted around the question but . . . I need you to know. I am so sorry."

She frowned and leaned up, kissing him gently and before he had a chance to utter another apology for something he'd done years ago, Hermione whispered, "I love you," against his mouth and felt more than heard the breath he sucked in at her declaration.

An apology was difficult to mutter out, but this . . . this he could do. "I love you," he replied and watched with a triumphant joy as she smiled at his words as though she hadn't expected them. The brightness of her eyes filled him with something akin to pride so much so that he had to tell her again in the hopes of keeping the twinkle there in her gaze. "I love you."

oOoOoOo

Back at the castle they smiled and held hands and sat at the Ravenclaw table together because Ron said it wasn't fair that Luna was always being dragged around by her friends and everyone should sit with her instead. Theo, Daphne, Blaise, Ginny, and Neville all joined them while Harry and Pansy each sat at their own House tables, as far away from the other as possible.

"So dramatic," Hermione said, shaking her head. "You think if we just tell them that we know they'll, get over it?" she asked Draco.

"I'm still trying to pretend I don't know," he admitted. "Did you know that Potter doesn't know how to properly cast Silencing Charms?" he asked and Hermione blanched.

"Oh gods, I wish I didn't know."

"Welcome to our world," Theo commented.

As dinner finished up, Ron tried very hard to pay attention to Luna as she explained the difference between male and female Withersprogs, which were apparently tadpole-like creatures that used wings on the top of their heads to fly. Hermione occasionally listened in on the conversation, picking up descriptions and ways to avoid them, still not really understanding their purpose or the reason Luna had brought them up at all. She was far too distracted by the other conversation happening at the table where Ginny and Blaise were arguing, loudly, and she was fairly certain it was that argument that caused Ron to put so much effort into distracting himself with Luna's nonsense.

"You can't be serious!" Blaise snapped. "I thought you'd be happy to have another go."

Ginny scoffed. "Gods, you are ridiculously full of yourself. Has any girl ever said no to you?" she asked.

"Of course they have," he said, his pride still wounded and bleeding out all over the table in front of the audience of Draco, Hermione, Theo, and Daphne. Neville sat on Ginny's opposite side, desperately trying to become invisible. "Hermione said no to me just a few months ago."

"Totally different reason," Hermione insisted.

"No, it's not!" Blaise said. "You turned me down —"

"You weren't even serious."

"— because of Draco, and the same thing is happening this time —"

"Not the same thing," Hermione said defensively, even as Draco smirked at the scene.

"— only this time it's because of bloody fucking Longbottom!"

Neville looked up at his name being called, eyes wide and looking as though he wanted to either run away very quickly or reach for the Sword of Gryffindor and take a stand against his pride being attacked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Blaise gestured to Ginny's fingers, laced through Neville's as though his point was being made for him. When no one reacted, he shouted, "Oh, come on!"

Ginny snorted, amused by Blaise's deeply wounded ego over being disregarded due to her new — as of that day — relationship with Neville. "What?" she asked innocently, and everyone could hear Ron sigh loudly a few seats down. "Neville's fit."

Blaise scoffed and folded his arms across his chest like a petulant toddler.

"He is!" Ginny said defensively. "Look!" she added as she let go of Neville's hand to reach over and tug at the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up to reveal a surprisingly toned stomach. Neville blushed red and pulled his shirt down, trying to hide his embarrassment by looking down at his half-eaten treacle tart as though it were about to sprout wings and fly away and his unblinking focus was the only thing keeping it in place.

"Well done, Longbottom," Daphne said with a grin and Theo rolled his eyes as Blaise stood up and stormed away to the Hufflepuff table, taking a seat between two sixth years who immediately began to simper at his sudden attention.

"Happy for you two," Hermione said with a sweet smile as she looked across the table at Ginny and Neville, who was now shyly smiling at the attention. When she felt Draco bristle a little at the sudden focus on Neville, she leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled as he relaxed his posture a bit. That is, until her tiny black owl came flying into the Great Hall with all the other owls delivering the evening post and landed on the table in front of the couple, nipping at Draco's fingers as they traced the skin of Hermione's arm.

"Fucking bird," he muttered. "My eagle owl is less of a menace," he proclaimed and sucked his injured fingertips into his mouth.

Hermione smirked and handed Leo a piece of chicken from her plate before watching the bird take flight once again as Draco's infamously terrifying eagle owl took up the suddenly empty space on the table, a letter attached to his foot with the Malfoy crest stamped in a silver wax seal on the envelope. The witch frowned at the sight of it, knowing it came from Draco's parents, the constant reminder that they weren't just a normal couple but were, instead, betrothed due to Blood Magic because of the generation that came before them.

"Your mother or father?" she asked quietly as Draco broke the seal.

He frowned but relaxed his posture, silently answering her question: Narcissa.

"She wants . . ." Draco said and then sighed, holding the letter out to his girlfriend.

Hermione took it carefully as though it might have been cursed and then glanced down at the elegant script on the parchment. "What?!" she shrieked. "She can't . . . is this a joke?" she asked and then turned and glared at Draco as though he had a hand in it. When he reacted in shock, she felt guilty for her accusational tone, but then threw the letter down on the table and stood, storming out of the Great Hall, presumably toward Sirius's chambers.

Ron turned and glared at Draco. "What did you do to Hermione?" he demanded.

Draco sighed. "Surprisingly enough, Weasley," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm not the cause of her foul mood." He held up the letter. "My mother," he said the word like a great burden, "has invited Hermione to join our family for Christmas," he stated and then added with a groan as he quickly skimmed the remainder of the letter, "at the Manor."


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I actually caught up on writing this week (a bit) so as a thank you for your continued support, I thought I'd put this chapter up a day early.

Q&amp;As - A lot of you questioned why Narcissa couldn't pick somewhere else to spend Christmas, but I wanted to remind everyone that Narcissa and Lucius are both still under house arrest. **Guest**, my Snape varies a bit. Alan Rickman is just . . . Mmm . . . but also too old for the Snape in my head so it kind of is this weird mashup of Adrien Brody (because nose and hair) and Benedict Cumberbatch (because voice). **buttercup88**, Tonks and Remus never got together in this story (no real reason . . . yet) but Tonks survived the war and likely returned to active Auror duty.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-Eight

_Volitans_

* * *

**December 1998**

Hermione had left the Great Hall, anger boiling her blood as she tried to wonder what on earth Narcissa Malfoy could have been thinking, inviting her back to the Manor . . . for Christmas! Her hands shook as she paced through the corridors, aimlessly wandering in the shadows, imagining the look on Lucius Malfoy's face as though it were his suggestion. _Yes, Cissy, bring the girl back to the place where your sister tortured her, broke into her magical core, shattering a decade-long glamour, and then carved a slur into her flesh. Let's set the Christmas tree right over the spot on the floor where the little former Mudblood bled, that should cover up the stain. Perhaps we should put up a new chandelier as well._

Her body shook with anger and she hadn't even noticed the tears streaming down her face as she made her way to the quarters that her uncle shared with Remus. She hesitantly knocked on the door and felt relieved when Remus, and not Sirius, opened to greet her.

"Hermione . . . what's wrong?" he asked immediately, beckoning the witch inside. "Sirius isn't here," he said. "Do you want me to —"

"No," she said quickly and then glanced across the room to Sirius's bed where, stacked neatly on his bedside table were her father's diaries. "I just . . . I . . ." A warm hand touched her shoulder and she sagged in relief as she felt seconds away from breaking. "I thought I was doing so well," she admitted quietly. "It doesn't bother me much, you know. What happened with Bellatrix. I don't . . . I don't have nightmares anymore and I don't flinch at the mention of her name or . . . but . . ." she frowned. "They want me to go back."

Remus frowned and took a seat, pulling a chair out for her as well as he reached for the teapot that sat in the center of the table where he'd apparently been glancing over lesson plans, second years from the looks of it, and summoned a second cup from a nearby cupboard, pouring her some tea. "Who wants you to go where?" he asked.

She sat down and gratefully reached for the cup, but did not take a sip. "Draco's parents. They've invited me to the Manor. For Christmas."

The werewolf's eyes widened and his brows raised. "Are you sure you don't want me to go find Sirius?" he asked nervously.

She shook her head. "If he sees me like this and finds out why . . . he'll end up back in Azkaban."

Remus snorted. "He's got a bit more control than that, I think," he pointed out with a soft smile. "Not much, but it's there. What does Draco say about this?"

She shrugged. "I don't know I . . . I screamed and then stormed out of the Great Hall. I needed . . ." she started to say and then confusion took hold of her as she ran her thumb over the edge of the teacup where a small chip was, letting the sharp edge dig a bit into her skin. "I don't know what I need," she said, and her gaze flickered once again to the stack of diaries on Sirius's table.

Remus smiled sadly. "You need your father."

She looked up, surprised. "What? No."

"Hermione, it's okay," he said. "Do you know how much Harry depends on Sirius?" the werewolf asked. "He's here nearly every night. Whenever anything new happens in his life, he's here telling Sirius. Asking for advice, venting frustrations . . . he never had a chance to know his parents, and then the Dursleys were —"

"Miserable sods," Hermione mumbled bitterly and Remus laughed which only caused her to blush at her words. "Sorry," she said.

He shook his head and smiled. "No, they were. But now, Harry has Sirius and, despite being a man grown himself, he seeks out the only parental figure he has left. We never really grow out of needing our parents. Needing our family."

"I _had _parents," Hermione mumbled. "I'm different. I'm not like . . . Harry grew up with —"

"You had wonderful parents," he said with a sad smile. "And you will always remember them. But you also never had a chance to know your biological parents. Parents who understood magic and the problems that come with our world. Parents who knew Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and would have had advice to offer in your current circumstance," he said. "It's not a slight against your Muggle family to want your magical one."

Hermione frowned. "It feels silly. He's not alive and yet . . ." she said, once again looking over at the diaries. "How can you miss someone you've never met?" she asked.

Remus frowned. "You did meet him. You just don't remember."

"I want to remember," she admitted quietly and then finally took a sip of the tea, grimacing when she did. "Oh, Remus, this is just . . . just awful," she said with a laugh as she actually chewed on the grains of sugar in the back of her mouth. "Thank you."

The werewolf smiled and nodded. "Take them," he said. "I know for a fact Sirius is done reading those and they rightly belong to you."

oOoOoOo

Back in the comfort of her dorm room, Hermione set down the stack of leather-bound journals on her trunk and began flipping through them at random, searching for a specific entry. When she finally found it, she smiled and brought the book to her bed, laying back and breathing in the scent of decades old parchment. She sneezed when a black feather fell out of the pages, tickling her nose and she picked it up off the bed and smiled and made a mental note to pick up something for her owl the next time she was in Hogsmeade to maybe help with his grooming. Setting her feather-bookmark aside, she looked down at the pages and let the slanted black ink draw her in.

_July 15th, 1978_

_I'd never been so afraid in all my life. The summons to meet the Dark Lord felt like a death sentence and it took everything in my power to keep up my Occlumency shields while Severus Apparated us to the gates of Malfoy Manor. The mansion is large and imposing and, like the Malfoys themselves, reeks of old money. I imagine the Manor had once been a beautiful place, perhaps filled with the sounds of parties and laughter, clinking glasses of champagne and a string quartet in the corner for a holiday ball. The only sounds I remember, other than the heavy beat of my own heart echoing in my ears, was the gentle rattle of china as Narcissa poured tea for the Dark Lord, sitting in the drawing room in a simple chair as though it were a throne._

_He spoke to Severus first, asking about Evans. It unnerves me to know that the man is aware of Severus's affections for the Muggle-born. I could tell he was trying to provoke him. Trying to poke a sleeping bear in the hopes it would awaken and attempt to defend the honour of his lady love. Severus wasn't stupid enough to do such a thing, of course, but I still willingly put myself in the path between friend and . . . I don't rightly know what the Dark Lord is. But I stood there, all of sixteen years old and waxed poetic about indoctrinating purebloods and blood-traitors and using Muggle-borns as servants as though they were house-elves. I was witty and charming and all I could wonder is whether or not my lies were believed and, if they weren't, would he kill me himself and did dying hurt as bad as I thought it would. Knew it would._

_And then . . . then the Muggles. Those girls. Gods . . . I didn't want to. Severus tried to take the task for me, to spare me, but they found a way around it. I try to tell myself that killing them was a mercy, even as I wondered if the Dark Lord kept more Muggles stashed away in the cellar of the Manor and that these two had been spared the torture others would inflict upon them; given to Severus and I to dispose of painlessly. Still, I let the Dark Mark brand itself into my skin and I wept and sobbed through the pain . . . gods the pain was . . . and I let myself feel every bit of it thinking that it was well deserved. Punishment for what I'd done. What I felt I had to do._

_I had to do it._

_When we Disapparated away . . . I never want to go back there. That place, that Manor, is a building of death and darkness and how many others had been killed there? Tortured there? Blood and sweat and tears — my tears — stain the floors. I never want to go back. I have to go back. He'll call me and I'll go and do as I'm bid because I have to. I can do it. I'll go back and stand where I cried and vomited and I'll look the Dark Lord in the face as proof it didn't break me._

_He didn't break me. I can be brave._

_I can be brave like Sirius._

Hermione closed her eyes and shed the last tear she'd been holding onto. Letting it cascade down the slope of her cheek and falling off of her chin to land on the inked pages. "I can be brave," she whispered defiantly as she closed the diary and reached for a piece of parchment from her bag, pulling out a quill as well as she quickly wrote a letter of reply to Narcissa Malfoy.

A knock at the door pulled her from her focus as she folded the letter and sealed it up in an envelope, using a stamp that she'd been given by Kreacher before returning to Hogwarts, the Black family crest and a stick of black wax. "Come in," she said, assuming it was Ginny or one of the other girls, offering her privacy after her embarrassing exit from dinner.

"You decent?" Harry's voice spoke softly and Hermione's eyes widened as she peeked around her curtains to see her best friend standing in the doorway, a hand over his eyes.

She laughed at the sight. "How did you get up here?" she asked.

"Figured out how to disable the spell on the stairs," he said, still covering his eyes. "Can I . . .?"

"Oh for goodness sake, Harry, I'm not naked," she snapped.

He breathed a sigh of relief and uncovered his face. "Huh," he said, looking around. "Looks just like our dorm only . . . clean," he noted and then walked over to Hermione's bed, taking a seat beside her. "Ron told me what happened. Those sodding bastards. How could they actually think that you'd —"

"I'm going."

Harry stared at her. "You're what? Hermione!"

"I'm going," she insisted. "I won't let that place break me. Whether I like it or not, and I don't," she said quickly, "those people are Draco's parents and . . . and Narcissa risked everything for Draco. She loves him and wants to see him for Christmas and they can't leave the Manor. He has to go to them and if I'm to get to know them in any way, it has to be there," she said and frowned. "I don't like it and I can't imagine they do as well but . . . I'm going."

Harry looked furious and she understood why. The choices laid upon the table were not good ones. "Do you want me to —"

"No," she said quickly. "You're going to spend Christmas at the Burrow with the Weasleys and with Sirius. I'll go to Malfoy Manor for . . . a visit," she said. "And then I'll leave and come to be with the rest of you. Will you write to Mrs. Weasley and see if Draco can come along as well?" she asked and Harry nodded. "I should . . . I should tell Sirius what happened. Unless you already have?"

Harry blushed. "I might have . . ."

"Oh, Harry." She sighed and then wrapped her arms around her friend in a tight hug. "I think he'll insist on coming with me. Perhaps I can ask Severus as well," she added. "Surround myself with support that they will either respect or . . . be annoyed by," she said with a smirk. "Walk with me to the Owlery? I have a letter I wrote, accepting Mrs. Malfoy's invitation."

Harry nodded and walked with her toward the door.

"So," she said, breaking the momentary silence. "Is the disarming spell for the stairs the same as it is in the Slytherin dorms?"

Harry paused and stared at his friend and then after a long moment of contemplation said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Hermione."

She laughed and took his arm as he led her down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room where Draco was waiting for her at the bottom.

"Granger," he addressed her, falling back on old habits which told her that he was upset. "I swear to you, I had no idea what was in that letter and I'm going to write my mother and demand that —"

"I'm going," she told him, smiling to Harry as he stepped back, allowing the couple to deal with the issue at hand. "I'm going and you won't be demanding anything of your mother. I've written her a letter, accepting her invitation. I'm going to the Manor with you for Christmas . . . not to stay," she insisted, waiting for him to ask questions. When he said nothing but instead stared at her with his mouth open, she continued, "and I'll be asking Sirius and Severus both to accompany us."

"My father doesn't have a wand," Draco said quickly.

Hermione smirked, catching his meaning. "I'll ask Sirius to behave himself."

"Hermione," he said, reaching out for her hand. "You don't have to —"

"I do," she replied back quickly. "I have to do this. That's your home. Your parents are stuck there and I won't keep you from them. I also won't let your father think I'm afraid to go there."

"But you are," he pointed out.

She nodded. "Terrified. But I won't let that stop me. I can be brave," she said with a smile. "I can be brave like Regulus."

oOoOoOo

Sirius and Severus had both been less than pleased to hear of the news regarding their new Christmas plans and that Hermione had accepted the invitation to Malfoy Manor without discussing it with either of them. Still, they both agreed to accompany both her and Draco to Wiltshire for the holiday and then Severus shooed Sirius out of the dungeons because he didn't want his lab to "smell like mutt".

Several days later when the fear finally begun to fade a bit, Hermione was dropped into facing another wretched phobia.

"Pleeeease," Draco whinged and Hermione glared at him. Not at him, exactly, but at the broom grasped within his hands. "Hermione, I won't let you fall. I swear it."

"_You_ fall all the time," she pointed out.

"I do not," he said, clearly offended by her words, "I _crash_," he corrected her, "playing Quidditch. There's a difference. I've never just fallen off my broom and I would never let you fall. Seeker reflexes," he said with a bright grin.

She fidgeted with her fingers and tried to reason in her head all the many ways that this was a bad idea. "I'm . . . I'm not . . . flying is just unnatural and —"

"You're a witch. Witches fly. Your father loved flying more than almost anything in the world, you've said so yourself," he pointed out. "Your father and uncle both played on their Quidditch teams, your best friends ALL play, and I play. I'm not asking you to pick up a Beater's bat. I'm asking you to summon that Gryffindor courage you're always prattling on about and face another fear," he said, a smug grin on his face when he knew that he'd hit just the right spot to properly provoke her.

"Fine," she said through clenched teeth. "But . . . we do this on my terms, agreed?"

Draco nodded. "As long as you're in the sky with your arms wrapped around my waist, I'm happy," he said with a silly smile that made her want to kiss him. So she did.

He grinned against her mouth and joyfully wrapped his arms around her waist, ignoring Professor Vector as she cleared her throat while passing them in the hallway, pulling away to peck her once more on the lips. "You won't regret it. Once we're hovering over the lake and you can see the sky reflected in the water . . . it's the second most beautiful thing in the world."

She smiled at him, refusing to ask what the first most beautiful thing in the world was, already knowing his rehearsed answer to the question that would only make her roll her eyes at his sad attempt at flattery. "My terms. You swear it? We'll face fears _together _when we go flying."

Draco picked up on her words immediately but made the mistake of thinking that a Gryffindor couldn't be cunning enough to trick him. "Of course," he said, not realising the mistake of his promise.

An hour later when she led him by the hand toward the Forbidden Forest instead of the lake, Draco began to understand the ramifications of underestimating his witch. "No, no, no," he said and dug his heels into the ground, even as she tried dragging him forward, toward Hagrid's hut, toward the pumpkin patch where the giant, grey chicken lay on the ground, tearing apart what looked to be . . . a ferret.

"We're facing _both _of our fears today, Draco," Hermione said, pulling on his arm.

"Easy for you to say, Granger! A broom never sent you to the Hospital Wing!"

"Correct. That's because when Madam Hooch gave instructions on how to handle a broom, I followed them instead of acting cocky because my need to show up a classmate overpowered common sense," she said and watched as he huffed at her. "I've already talked to Hagrid and he says it's perfectly fine and that he had a good chat with Buckbeak."

Draco shook his head. "That thing tried to kill me!"

"And bully for you, you tried to kill it back," she pointed out. "We're all even, aren't we?"

"It's a monster. It'll . . . it hates me. Look at it!" he said, pointing as they approached the small gate. Buckbeak was indeed looking up, his head tilted to the side in observation of the pair, a tuft of fur hanging off of his large beak as he finished his dinner. "Don't think I don't know what you're thinking," he said to the large creature. "He remembers me," Draco insisted. "Remembers the taste of my blood."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "First, he doesn't remember you. Second, he didn't bite you. He scratched you."

"Probably licked his claws clean while I was being rushed to the Hospital Wing to save my life," he mumbled under his breath.

Hermione laughed and then frowned apologetically when he turned and glared at her in reply. She stepped forward and placed both of her hands on his cheeks to draw his attention back to her. "Draco," she said softly. "I won't let you get hurt, I promise," she told him. "I've flown on Buckbeak before and so has Harry and so has Sirius. Many times. He's perfectly safe if you treat him with respect instead of acting all cocky and getting flustered because Harry Potter got to ride a hippogriff when you didn't," she pointed out and Draco mumbled something about "the Chosen One" under his breath in reply.

"I love you," she said sweetly, and that caused him to soften his defenses. "We can face our fears together."

He stared at her, noting the suddenly apprehensive tone in her voice at the last words and couldn't help but wonder if she was still talking about her fear of flying. Unlikely. She was probably more afraid of going to the Manor and facing the demons and the history there and this was a stepping stone. Him trusting her so that she could also trust him. Facing their fears together. His of the bird, hers of flying, and perhaps both of their phobia of addressing one of the worst moments in the war for the pair of them.

"I love you," he replied and kissed her softly.

Hermione smiled and led him slowly toward Buckbeak who stood suddenly alert, orange eyes staring at the pair carefully. "Hello, Buckbeak," the witch said with a bright smile. "I was hoping we could go for a ride . . . er . . . well, not hoping really. I still deplore heights and flying, but I trust a living creature more than a bit of enchanted wood and —"

"Hermione," Draco said, interrupting her rambling. "You're chatting to a giant chicken as if it understands you." Buckbeak snorted and turned glaring eyes on Draco. "Oh fuck, it understands us, doesn't it?" he said, whimpering slightly and scratching at the scar that still remained behind on his arm from the last time he'd encountered the hippogriff.

Hermione smiled. "He probably smells fear," she said and then quietly added, "and arrogance." Draco turned and gave her a stern look and she rolled her eyes. "They're proud creatures and you've done nothing but insult him. I insist that you be nice, Draco. This hippogriff saved my life, Harry's, and Sirius's. Now bow."

Draco swallowed hard and very slowly, with great trepidation, bowed his head before the beast. "How come _you _don't have to bow?" he asked, his eyes barely looking to the side to see Hermione watching him carefully.

"I already did," she said. "Buckbeak knows and trusts me so I only have to give a little nod of the head. I've earned his loyalty. Now earn yours," she said and watched as Draco continued to bow, even as Buckbeak just stared at him, occasionally tilting his large head from side to side. The beast finally turned and looked at Hermione and she smiled at him sweetly and then stroked the soft small feathers of his face. Finally, the hippogriff relented and gave a small bow to Draco who sighed in relief and slowly rose.

"Now what?" he asked.

Hermione stepped forward and took Draco's hand with a smile, lacing their fingers together, her palm to the back of his hand, straightening Draco's arm out toward Buckbeak. "Now wait for him," she whispered, leaning her head against the wizard's shoulder and smiling when she felt him relax into her touch, turn and kiss the top of her head. He almost didn't even notice when the hippogriff had pressed his beak into the palm of Draco's hand.

Draco's fingers ran over the smooth texture of the beak and then up between the eyes of the beast where he touched the feathers there, taking slow, deep breaths as he moved. "Okay," he said on an exhale. "What do you say you and I show this witch what flying is really like?" he asked and then jumped a little when Buckbeak trotted forward, adjusting his wings as though readying himself for passengers.

Unlike horses that he'd ridden in the past around the Manor growing up, which usually came with saddles, Draco leveraged himself against Buckbeak's wing with his left foot and threw his right leg over the back of the animal, gently gripping the feathers at the base of his neck to steady himself. "Woah," he said and patted Buckbeak before turning to reach his hand out to Hermione who suddenly looked anxious. "C'mon, Granger," he said with a smirk. "I faced my fears."

She nibbled her lower lip. "I thought it would take you longer and eventually you'd agree that maybe we should take this in small steps," she admitted.

Draco rolled his eyes and reached for her again. "Hermione."

She grit her teeth and gripped Draco's hand, squeaking a little when he tugged her up behind him with a strength she wasn't entirely aware he had. She made an "oof" sound when she settled in behind him, gripping the front of his robes tight enough that her knuckles turned a paler white than Draco's own skin. "Ease up," he whispered and then nudged Buckbeak gently with his feet once he felt Hermione loosen her grip just a touch. "Take it easy, okay?" he asked the beast who bent his knees and leapt up to the sky in one boundless jump, wings extended and flapping down hard against the ground, throwing leaves and dirt and a bit of snow up in their wake.

It wasn't like riding a broom, that much was certain, but Draco grinned with excitement once they flew up and over the Forbidden Forest, and he turned to watch as the sunset glowed in reflection off of the Black Lake. "Look," he told Hermione and when she didn't respond, he sighed as he felt her face being pressed hard against his back. "Hermione, I thought you said you'd done this before."

She nodded quickly. "I didn't like it then either."

"You mean you didn't like jumping on a hippogriff and riding it up to the castle in a hurry to free your uncle who was being targeted by Dementors?" he asked sarcastically. "Why on earth wouldn't you have enjoyed that kind of flying?"

"Prat!"

"Hermione."

"Don't want to."

"Hermione."

"Too high."

"Love," he said softly and she didn't reply back to the name, but she slowly loosened her hold on his robes and instead pressed the flat of her palms against his chest and abdomen. "Hermione, open your eyes," Draco whispered, peeling one of her hands away from him to kiss the tips of her fingers.

She did open her eyes and the first sight she was met with was the glimmer of water just beneath them as Buckbeak lowered down, brushing his claws against the surface of the lake that had yet to freeze over but was turning to ice just around the edges, surrounded by snow. "Wow," she said as she noticed the colours of the setting sun on the water, bright golds and deep reds and the softest oranges and purples caught up in the giant bowl of the reflecting lake.

Flying this time wasn't as hectic and hurried as it was before. It wasn't shaky with Buckbeak's wings flapping hard against the wind but instead was a soft glide. Even as he took them higher, ever so slowly, Hermione felt the calm remain with her, smiling even as the last bit of colour drained from the lake and the sky, leaving instead a velvety black curtain above them, littered with bright stars.

"There I am," Draco said with a smirk, pointing at the constellation for which he was named.

She smiled and sighed against him, pressing her chest to his back. "Don't get too smug there, dragon boy," she said. "My father named me after every star in the sky," she said with a grin, her eyes searching out the constellation of Leo, where she knew her father's star rested.

"It's right there," Draco said, as though he knew exactly what she was doing, and he took the hand that was still wrapped in his palm and pointed up toward the familiar set of stars, pointing out the glimmering spot in the sky for which Regulus Black was named.

* * *

**A/N**: I've read plenty of Dramione stories (and really any story where Hermione is the main female love interest) where the wizard convinces her to face her fear of flying. So I wanted to do that bit of cliche (and adorable) sweetness but with a little twist and force Draco to deal with a little discomfort as well. The pair growing stronger together by neither being the victim or the hero and, instead, learning to depend on one another.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Posting this a few hours earlier. For some reason, FFnet isn't sending email alerts to a lot of readers after a certain time of night, so I thought I'd try and get a head start on posting this chapter and see if you all get it sometime before 6AM tomorrow morning.

Q&amp;As - **ChizomenoHime**, not sure if I'll be tackling Patronuses in this story. But out of curiosity, if I do, what do you all think Draco's Patronus should be? **Chester99**, Hermione will spend Christmas Eve and morning at the Burrow WITH Sirius. I don't imagine he'd be going back to Grimmauld Place on his own anyway. He's a people person.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Twenty-Nine

_Donum_

* * *

**December 24th, 1998**

The ride home on the train was filled with a bit of trepidation as Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors all mixed together in various compartments. Hermione remained with Draco, Ginny, and Neville as well as Daphne and Theo. Blaise, boycotting _anything _to do with Ginny, had opted to create a bachelor compartment with Goyle somewhere in the back of the train. Ron was all too happy to follow Luna as she roamed, so long as they eventually found the food trolley at some point.

"Where's Harry?" Neville had asked.

"Where's Pansy?" Daphne had replied, and they all shared a collective groan. "I think it's time for an intervention," the blond witch announced.

Severus, Sirius, and Mr. Weasley met the students at Kings Cross to escort them back to the Burrow, though Severus had been requested to accompany Draco to the Ministry where his wand would be checked, as per his probationary terms, by Aurors looking for Dark magic. It was embarrassing and Hermione knew he hated it, so she was more than pleased to know that the six months of his punishment would be up before they'd return to Hogwarts.

She kissed Draco goodbye and smiled, placing a kiss to her godfather's cheek as well — ignoring the assorted grumbles that he said when she'd done so — and turned to take hold of Ginny's arm as the pair of witches Disapparated away.

The Burrow was, as usual, a complete madhouse and Hermione almost longed for the strange silence of Grimmauld Place. _Home_, she thought to herself as she imagined the large Black Manor. _Home_.

The Burrow was cramped with too many people and too much food with Molly desperately trying to overcompensate for not being able to give every single child under her roof adequate attention. Fred and George stayed outside with Charlie and Bill, while Fleur remained inside with the Angelina and Katie, offering assistance where they could. The second they arrived, Molly wrapped both Harry and Ron in her arms together, squishing the boys against one another as she hugged them simultaneously and begged to know everything that she'd been hearing from Ginny's letters about Luna and Harry's secret girlfriend.

The Weasley matriarch eventually cornered Ginny and Neville and smiled when the boy went into a well-rehearsed speech about honouring boundaries and being respectful which only caused Molly to beam with joy and kiss his cheeks while Ginny rolled her eyes.

While the rest of the family ate scattered around the house, Hermione sat at the foot of the stairs, watching with a happy smile on her face.

"And where's _your _young man?" Molly asked as she sat down beside the little witch.

Hermione looked up and sighed. "Severus took him to the Ministry and then he was going home to see his parents. Likely giving his father a speech about what to not say to me when I show up tomorrow morning," she said, looking nervous.

"Are you worried about going . . . going back there?" Molly asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Not . . . not really. I'm more . . ." she frowned. "His mother's been perfectly kind to me since discovering who I was, but his father . . . how can I show up there and pretend that I don't know exactly the kind of man that Lucius Malfoy is?" she asked. "I'd be pretending to be someone I'm not and I don't want Draco to see me as that. As someone who will bend her morals just to make things easier."

"Nor should you," Molly replied with a stern voice. "If that boy loves you, and Ginny and Harry both say that he does," she said with a smile. "Then he knows you are a force to be reckoned with. You are not the future Mrs. Draco Malfoy. You are Hermione Granger or Hermione Black. Both are good, strong names with good, strong parents. And don't you let that great blond bigoted father of his make you think you're not worthy of their name. He should try to be worthy of yours."

Hermione grinned and kissed Molly's cheek in gratitude.

oOoOoOo

**December 25th, 1998**

Christmas morning was just as hectic as ever and Hermione did her best to load her gifts into her bag which still had an Extension Charm on it. It turned out to be quite helpful, considering the number of books and amount of candy she received would have filled her Hogwarts trunk to the brim. As she prepared to leave for Malfoy Manor, merely waiting for Severus to arrive, she was tugged into the hallway by Ginny who had a glint in her eye far too reminiscent of her twin brothers.

"I need you to do me a favour," Ginny said with a bright grin. "When you go to the Malfoys, I want you to lose this somewhere in Lucius's study." She held a small, plain-looking book out to Hermione.

The curly-haired witch was hesitant to take it. "What does it do?" she asked immediately.

Ginny smirked. "He once gifted _me _a book," she stated, her words only slightly bitter considering all the things that had occurred due to Lucius's actions. "I am merely returning the kind gesture. Don't worry, it won't hurt _you_. It's very . . . gender specific."

Hermione paled slightly. "Ginny, I know he's a proper bastard, but the man is still Draco's father and I . . . what will it do to him?"

Ginny shrugged and grinned. "It's not a bloody Horcrux," she said quietly and then added, "Just to be safe though, if you eventually want children, I wouldn't let Draco touch it."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Oh, bollocks," she groaned.

Ginny laughed. "Not for long."

"Hermione?" Harry called from down the hall. "Snape's here and we're ready to go."

Ginny smiled and turned away while Hermione joined Harry, a raised brow in curiosity as she approached her friend. "_We_? Harry, you are not coming with us to Malfoy Manor," she insisted as she slipped into the travelling cloak he held open for her.

Harry smiled softly. "I know that," he said. "I'm . . . we're making a stop first. I . . . I have a gift for you."

oOoOoOo

She stood in a familiar cemetery one year to the day of the first and only other time she'd been there. Then, she'd gone for support as Harry visited the graves of his parents for the first time. She'd watched, heart broken, as her best friend cried while running his fingers over the engravings on the large marble headstone marking the final resting spots of James and Lily Potter.

Now it was Hermione's turn to cry. "Oh, Harry," she said as she reached out and ran her fingers over the marks on the large grey tombstone.

_Regulus Black * Marlene Black_

_12 May 1961 * 8 June 1961_

_Died 31 October 1981_

"I know they didn't have proper burials," Harry began, reaching out and putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "but . . . I wanted you to have somewhere to go to visit them," he said and then turned back to look at both Sirius and Severus as they stood, observing the teenagers. "All of you," he added and turned his attention back to the witch. "They deserve to be honoured. Not just because they fought in the war and sacrificed their lives to bring down Riddle but . . . they were your parents."

Hermione smiled and wiped the tears that were pricking at her eyes. "You put them next to yours," she whispered softly as she turned her head to look at the familiar marble headstone a few spaces down, already with a new wreath of Christmas roses set at the foot of it.

Harry gave her an awkward, lopsided smile and ran his hand through his messy hair. "Well . . . yeah. We're all family, aren't we?" he asked and laughed softly when she stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. "There's umm . . . something else. We . . . er . . . the three of us," he said, pulling away from her and taking her by the hand to lead her back to Sirius and Severus, "called in a few favours with Kingsley."

Severus stood tall, his black robes sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the others who dressed in Muggle attire covered by light coloured travelling cloaks. "The Minister of Magic," he said, "has seen fit to have your father posthumously exonerated for his crimes committed as a Death Eater. Both due to his young age when he took the Mark, and because he fought against the Dark Lord, both before his suspected death and . . . and after."

Hermione smiled and felt a strange relief sit on her shoulders as though she'd been carrying the burden of her father's guilt since discovering who he was and what he was forced into at such a young age. She smiled as she noticed Sirius looking as though he felt similarly. She watched curiously as her uncle removed a long square box from his cloak, holding it out to her. "Kingsley sent these to me this morning, but they rightly belong to you."

She opened the box slowly and gasped when she saw the familiar medals within it. She had one of her own, of course, an Order of Merlin, for helping to bring down Voldemort. And now, so did her parents. "Thank you all," she whispered as she touched the awards. "So much."

"There's one more gift," Sirius said. "Something Snape and I have been working on."

She looked up at her godfather expectantly and he frowned. "It may not work. You were very young when I was forced to Obliviate you," he said with a sigh of frustration, "and there's no telling whether or not the memories could be properly returned, however . . ."

Sirius grinned and removed his wand from his coat, casting a quick Notice-Me-Not on the group so passing Muggles wouldn't pay them any attention. "I've been practicing," he said proudly.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Apparently a lack of proper lesson plans for his students has left your uncle with a great deal of free time."

Sirius nodded, ignoring the insult. "And I'm easily bored," he said with a smile and then approached Hermione, placing the tip of his wand to her temple, closing his eyes to concentrate as he whispered a soft incantation that she couldn't quite make out.

There was a slight tingle behind her eyes that spread to her ears and settled somewhere deep within, radiating outward and tickling her nose. She twitched in response and then looked up as Sirius reopened his eyes. "I didn't . . . I don't . . ." she said with a frown as nothing suddenly popped into her memory as she had hoped. Sirius frowned and sighed in defeat.

Severus looked unruffled by the results. "As I said, you were very young. They might not return at all, or if they do, perhaps they will come back slowly over time. Even as dreams."

Hermione smiled, happy for the hope that lay within the thoughtful gift. "Thank you," she said and hugged them all in turn. "Happy Christmas."

oOoOoOo

Malfoy Manor was as imposing as it ever was. The feel of it was different, Hermione could tell, though not by much. Dark magic had stained the very ground that the once beautiful home stood upon. They'd Apparated directly onto the grounds, she as a Side-Along companion to her godfather as both Severus and Sirius agreed that Hermione might not have been in a calm enough emotional state to go on her own, especially since the one and only time she'd been there had been traumatic.

When her breath was returned to her lungs, she swallowed down the rising bile that came with looking at the foreboding mansion, and took a deep breath to settle her nerves as they made the long walk to the front door. Before either Sirius or Severus could do anything, Hermione leaned forward and banged her balled up fist against the door hard.

When it opened, she expected to be met with the sneering face of Lucius Malfoy, so when her attention was drawn to a little house-elf instead, Hermione relaxed her face and felt mildly embarrassed for the glare that had just been there. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor Master Snape, Master Black," the elf said and then looked at Hermione, "Mis . . . Missy Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened and a flash of memory came to her. A small cottage with nothing surrounding it, and playing in the fields of flowers in the backyard while an elf — _this _elf — cautioned her not to run so fast.

Before Hermione could say a word, the elf spoke again, reaching out and taking Hermione's hand as she did. "Missy Hermione is well again," the elf said, tears in her large eyes. "Meela was told but . . . Meela could not see for herself."

"Meela," Hermione whispered the name that quickly got caught in her throat. "You're . . . _my _Meela. I think I remember!" she said excitedly and looked back to Sirius who was beaming with happiness and Severus who gave her a nod of approval as though she'd accomplished something herself.

"When I was forced to deliver you to your Muggle parents," Snape said. "I could not leave Meela behind at Iliad Cottage. You saw for yourself what confinement and loneliness did to Kreacher," he pointed out. "Still, despite purchasing Meela for you and Regulus, she was bound to serve the House of Black."

Meela smiled up at the man. "Master Snape gives Meela to the young Master Draco and Mistress Narcissa."

Sirius furrowed his brows. "Wait . . . if you were bound to the House of Black, how was Bellatrix able to harm Hermione here last year?" he asked. "Why didn't you do anything?"

The elf frowned and began wringing her hands together, clearly upset. "Meela is bound to protect _all _of the House of Black," she whispered.

Hermione covered her mouth in shock and then knelt down to face Meela eye to eye. "You weren't able to act against any Master or Mistress of the House and since it was Bellatrix who . . . you couldn't do anything to help me," she said and Meela nodded, smiling again when Hermione took her long, wrinkled hand within both of hers and stroked it affectionately. "Meela, I don't blame you. I'm just . . . I'm so happy to see you."

The elf cleared her throat, obviously trying not to be emotional. "Meela found Dobby, ask him to help," she admitted quietly. "Dobby was . . . Dobby was a good elf."

And then it all made sense. There was some speculation as to how Dobby knew they were being held at Malfoy Manor, but as the elf was killed in their escape, there was no way to find out the truth. But now they knew. _Meela_. Meela had called for help from the one elf that _could _act against witches and wizards. Meela and Dobby had saved them all. Hermione dabbed at her eyes with her sleeves before smiling and leaning forward, wrapping her arms around the small elf who squeaked initially at the contact but then smiled softly and ran her hands down the back of Hermione's long hair.

Footsteps approached and Draco opened the door to glance down at his witch kneeling on the front step. "I thought I heard . . . Hermione . . . why're you hugging my elf?"

oOoOoOo

The reunion with Meela was short lived, but Hermione made a promise to figure out how to remove the elf from Malfoy Manor as soon as possible, and even set Sirius to the task should she not be able to do anything herself. If the Malfoys needed a Black house-elf, Kreacher would likely be more than happy to serve, but Meela . . . Hermione couldn't stand the idea of her nanny elf living out the rest of her days in the place where Voldemort had done so much harm.

Meela was dismissed to attend to her duties by Draco, who remained shocked to know that he and Hermione shared yet another thing in common, and the young wizard took her hand within his own as he led her toward a small family room that, thankfully, sat as far away from the old drawing room as possible. When they entered, Hermione was distracted by the rather large, twinkling Christmas tree sitting in the corner, shocked by the beauty and colour of it which stood out like a sore thumb in the home that seemed devoid of much life.

Narcissa stood and approached the guests, her long blond hair pinned back elegantly, her dress as finely made as money could buy, though nothing helped to properly cover the stress that war had left upon the woman's face. "Miss Granger, thank you for accepting my invitation," she said politely, a happy smile on her face as she looked tempted to reach out for Hermione but touched Draco's arm instead. "I know . . . I understand what it must have cost you to return here," she said softly, looking guilty as she spoke. "I just didn't know how else to go about getting to know you. I'd written to the Ministry, requesting temporary leave, guarded if necessary but I was told that they did not have the resources to provide Aurors to accompany outside the Manor. It . . . it means a great deal to me that you were willing to be so accommodating."

Hermione looked back to Sirius who was ignoring his own cousin in favour of glaring at her husband who sat in a wingback chair in the corner near the tree, glaring into a tumbler of firewhisky. Hermione sighed, happy to see that, for now, all the men had decided to remain silent. "This is Draco's home," Hermione said, turning her attention to Narcissa, "and if _he _is able to return, despite the horrors he witnessed . . . my father too," she added, "I understand that awful things happened here and _he _was not afraid."

There was a scoff from the corner where Lucius sat and he looked up to narrow his eyes at the witch. "How very like Regulus you are."

"Father," Draco warned.

Hermione squeezed her boyfriend's hand and held her head high as she took a few steps forward, unafraid of the wandless wizard before her. "I take that as a considerable compliment, Mister Malfoy, though I doubt it was offered as such," she said, her tone indicating that she didn't care what he thought or said. "I do believe, however, I am more like my mother, Gryffindor and all. Still, I've been told recently I have many attributes of the Black family."

Lucius waved his hand at her dismissively, "The hair and eyes, yes."

She pursed her lips. "And the temper."

Narcissa cleared her throat and laughed sweetly. "Such lovely hair it is," she said, trying to ease the tension in the room, especially since Sirius looked to be practically vibrating with rage and his attempt to contain it. "I was the family anomaly, as you can see," the older witch said, gesturing to her own pale locks. "I remember being little and so very jealous of my sis —" she stopped and cleared her throat. "Andromeda's lovely dark hair," she said, wincing a touch at her faux pas.

Hermione ignored the awkwardness and smiled up at the witch. "Have you been able to reunite with your sister, Madam Malfoy?"

"Please dear, call me Narcissa, we are family, after all," she said and finally reached out, taking Hermione's hand and linking their arms together as she led them both to a nearby sofa, nearest Lucius which left Sirius, Draco and Severus to all sit across the room, putting appropriate distance between the rivals. "To answer you, no, I have not been able to. She . . . I wrote a letter, directly after the war, but I've not received a reply. It broke my heart to lose her when my father —"

"It broke us _all _to lose Andromeda that way," Sirius said softly, ignoring the seats in favour of the bar on the far side of the room where he helped himself to a drink, glancing once at Severus in question to be met with a curt nod, afterward he fixed a second glass and brought it to the Potions Master, a move that was as Slytherin as they came. They might not have been friends, but Lucius paid attention to the gesture as it solidified the dark-haired men against him in the very subtle and silent battle happening. "I've been trying to take steps to repair the tapestry," Sirius said to his cousin.

Lucius smirked. "Bit difficult since you're not on it?"

"_I'll_ be helping him," Hermione replied. "Sirius remains my Paterfamilias, but as I understand it, _I _am the last living heir to the Black family. Since it was _my _father who charmed the tapestry last, I believe I'll be able to restore it and those who were removed from it."

"Removed for good reason," Lucius said under his breath.

"Lucius," Narcissa said quietly.

"Father," Draco hissed louder.

The man turned and glared at his son. "_You_ do not command me, boy. It may be in your name, but this is _my _house and I'll not be silenced in it because my opinions differ from yours. Keep that in mind _if _you decide to marry my son," he said, turning his attention to Hermione, "Miss _Black_."

She smiled, looking not the slightest bit bothered by the outburst. "I will, Mister Malfoy. It isn't as though we'll live _here _when we marry, of course."

He tightened his grip on his tumbler. "This is the ancestral home of _all _Malfoys," he pointed out.

She nodded. "And, as you've stated, I am a _Black_. A Muggle-raised one. And as _delightful _as your home is," she said sarcastically, "each witch puts a great deal of themselves into decorating their living space and I have to admit, I feel I've already given _enough _of myself to this house."

Draco's posture stiffened, matching that of Sirius's, while Narcissa pressed her lips firmly together and swallowed down the shame she was feeling. Lucius merely smiled as he looked up at the little witch from his chair. "If it disgusts you so much, you know the way out," he said and gesturing with his glass of firewhisky toward the door.

Hermione scoffed. "I'm not disgusted by _that_," she said pointedly. "The lingering Dark magic, however, is palpable. I'd prefer to not be exposed to it for very long. It saddens me to know that Draco's parents are forced to reside here. I have a friend who is a Curse-Breaker. I could ask him to come and clean the place out if you'd like," she said, speaking to Narcissa and not Lucius.

It was, however, Lucius, who replied. "A Weasley, no doubt. The half-breed."

Sirius growled. "Watch it."

The blond smirked. "I forgot how much you favour wolves, Black. Married yours yet?"

Sirius stood, his eyes blazing. "You listen here you, motherf —"

"Sirius," Hermione jumped to her feet and touched her uncle's arm gently, hoping to calm him. "Perhaps you and Severus could take a walk?" she suggested, looking over Sirius's shoulder with pleading eyes to her godfather.

Severus sighed. "Did he bring his leash?" he asked.

Narcissa cleared her throat. "The gardens are beautiful, even in the winter," she said proudly. "I've had little else to do with my time. The pair of you are more than welcome to explore."

Sirius glared once more at Lucius and then turned, kissing Hermione on the side of the head before walking toward the door. "I'm good on my own, thanks," he said and then left the room, leaving behind an awkward silence wherein both witches looked to be trying to calm themselves for the sake of everyone else present.

Eventually, Narcissa spoke. "It's very kind of you to offer, Miss Granger. The Curse-Breaker, I mean."

"Is she a _Black _or is she not?" Lucius asked.

"Hermione, please," the younger witch said, ignoring Draco's father and, instead, favouring Narcissa with a gentle smile.

"Let's all be kind now, shall we?" the woman said. "It is Christmas after all."

"Is it?" Draco said, rubbing his hands down his face as though attempting to wipe away the stress. "I'd almost forgotten."

His mother turned her eyes on him and sighed. "Don't be cheeky, Draco," she said as she stood and moved toward the tree, lightly kicking Lucius in the shin and narrowing her eyes at him reproachfully. She withdrew a small box wrapped in silver paper with a delicately curled red ribbon around it and handed the box to Hermione. "This is from me, dear," she said and smiled when Hermione opened the box to reveal a small photo album. "I . . . I found a great deal of old photographs, many with your father in them. I thought you might like to have them."

Hermione smiled brightly as she opened the cover to find an old family photograph of the Black household. Even Sirius was there, standing between Regulus and Andromeda, centered in the photo where neither of the disowned children could have been removed without damaging the entire picture. Her father, very small in the image moved to reach for Sirius's hand, shying away from the camera and burying his head in his brother's robes. "This is beautiful, Narcissa, thank you ever so much," Hermione whispered softly. "I . . . I feel quite terrible, I didn't think to get anything for the pair of you."

Narcissa took Hermione's hand and squeezed it gently. "I see a man with a proud smile on his face sitting where my sad little boy used to sit," she said, gesturing to Draco who was watching Hermione with a grin on his face as she flipped through the photo album. "That is gift enough for me, my dear." The older witch looked up at her son and then nodded her head toward the tree.

Draco stood and reached for another box, bringing it to Hermione and taking the seat next to her as his mother abandoned it in favour of Lucius's lap, which caused the blond wizard to sigh and adjust the glass in his hand. "I have something for you," Draco said. "I wanted something to . . . to honour your parents, both magical and Muggle."

Hermione, interest piqued, tore open the wrapping and stared down at a beautifully carved, wooden jewellery box. The carving was delicate and precise, made of vine wood, like her wand. The Black family crest was engraved in the center with the House words wrapped repeatedly along the edges. Hermione smiled at the beauty of it but frowned at the words. "Draco this is . . . this is beautiful, but I don't . . ." she sighed sadly. "I appreciate the gesture, but this is the Black family crest. I don't see how this has anything to do with my Muggle —"

"I made it myself."

"Oh?" she asked, not understanding.

He swallowed nervously. "Without . . . without using magic."

Her mouth fell open and she reached up to touch his cheek, drawing his face to hers so that she could look into his silver eyes. She couldn't imagine how long it had taken him to create such a thing, especially with such detail. She made a mental note to ask him later how many injuries he received while carving into the wood. "It's beautiful Draco, thank you."

He smiled, looking quite proud of his gift. "Open it."

Suddenly realising that it was a _jewellery _box in her hands, Hermione's eyes widened in nervous anticipation. "Draco . . ." she said as she opened the latch and pried open the top of the box to be met with a very simple pearl necklace. Her lips parted and her eyes watered at the sight, her fingers hovering over the small, white pearls with reverence.

"Severus had them," Draco said, a simple admission that they were, in fact, the very ones that had once belonged to her mother. "I know I once tried to offer you jewels —"

"_Once_?" Hermione said and then laughed.

Draco smirked. "Once, _genuinely_. And you didn't understand," he said, remembering the necklace from several Christmases ago. "I thought about giving you that same ruby necklace because I do still have it but . . . it didn't feel good enough," he admitted. "So I asked Severus for help and he told me that this was —"

"My mother's," she whispered. "These were . . . these are the pearls he gave her."

Draco nodded and reached for the necklace, pulling it gently out of the box and unclasping the back of it. "And, even though they are already technically yours, I'd like to give them to you as well in the hope that they hold the same significance for you and I, as they did for your parents," he said and smiled when Hermione nodded her head quickly, wiping away the tears as they fell onto her cheeks. He grinned as he latched the pearls behind her hair, taking a moment to curl a lock of it around his finger, tugging softly.

"I love you," she whispered to him as though they were the only ones in the room.

Draco brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "And I you."

* * *

**A/N**: More Christmas with the Malfoys coming!


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Extra chapter this week. Because I have ZERO self control.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirty

_Plumis_

* * *

**December 25th, 1998**

Severus cleared his throat, drawing their attention as Hermione laughed and finished wiping the tears from her face, unaware that silently, Narcissa was doing the same as she affectionately touched an emerald necklace that hung around her own neck.

"I have a gift for the pair of you," Severus said and stood, removing a piece of parchment from his robes, handing it out to Draco who looked down at the paper, eyes wide.

"Uncle, you didn't have to —"

"The Fidelius Charm has remained intact these many years and I have, from time to time, gone to check on the house to make certain it is in good repair," Severus said.

Hermione's eyes widened and she snatched the paper from Draco to stare down at the words, '_Iliad Cottage, the home of Hermione Black and Draco Malfoy, is in Arundel, West Sussex'_. "Iliad Cottage?" Hermione whispered.

Narcissa's brows furrowed. "What is that?"

"My parents home. Regulus and Marlene," Hermione said, staring at the paper before crumpling it into a ball and setting it aflame with a silent _Incendio_. "It's . . . it's where I was born," she added before looking up at Severus. "You're giving it to me?"

"It is yours by right. I've merely kept it for you."

She turned and smiled at Draco. "We have a house!"

Lucius scoffed loudly and struggled a bit to lift Narcissa off of his lap as he stood to glare down at Hermione. "This is preposterous. _All _Malfoys live in Malfoy Manor. When the two of you have children, they will be _Malfoys _and they will be raised here and I'll hear nothing of —"

"Be careful with your words, Lucius," Severus cautioned calmly, giving off a quiet, yet dangerous, aura.

The blonde turned and glared at his former comrade. "Don't you address me, Severus. Decades we were friends and I find out that you've been a traitor the _entire _time! Consorting with Muggles and blood-traitors and Mud —"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Hermione shouted, on her feet faster than any in the room was aware.

Severus had his wand drawn, aimed at Lucius while he looked for the actual threat, only to notice that Hermione was gripping a Hawthorn wand in her free hand and Draco was glaring at his father, fist extended and clenched.

"Draco," she said, stepping between the two Malfoy men, "your father doesn't even have a wand on him and you're still on probation," she said softly. "Do us all a favour and don't let anyone in this room be led to believe that I am affected in the slightest by a small word that lingers in small minds. One that, technically, doesn't even apply to me anymore."

"Blood-traitor will do," Lucius spat angrily. "Just like your parents."

She turned and narrowed her eyes at the man, refusing to budge when Draco stepped forward, wandless, as though he meant to put a stop to his own father's words. Hermione spoke first. "Rather a blood-traitor than a coward who tells a teenage boy murder children," she snapped at the man. "My father kept _detailed _diaries of Death Eater revels. I know a surprising amount of how Tom Riddle ran his little empire."

Lucius flinched at the use of Voldemort's given name. "You don't know anything," he said, almost a slur and Hermione sighed as she realised that this sad man was burying his sorrows in bottles.

"I know that you didn't have a choice to become a Death Eater because your father before you was already caught up in Tom Riddle's wake," she said, watching as Lucius settle back into his seat and poured himself a new glass of firewhisky only to have it taken from him by his clearly irritated wife. "I know that my father thought you were a good man and that was why he was so willing to break his contract with Narcissa. Because he knew you loved her tremendously," she said and watched as Draco's parents made eye contact and Lucius looked away from her quickly, his expression reading guilt. "I know that that part of you is still good but you let yourself be corrupted by the fear of a man who was so dark that he shattered his soul and recruited children from one side of a war while murdering the other side. A man who thought an _infant boy _would be his undoing."

Lucius looked up. "Was he wrong?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "About many things," she answered. "I know that, despite whatever twisted sense of honour you think you have, you know you're wrong too. About Muggles and Muggle-borns. I know that you mourned the death of my father enough to fight Sirius in public, accusing the Order for killing Regulus. And finding out that his original death was faked is probably why you're angry now. You feel that he betrayed you personally, forcing you to mourn for someone who wasn't actually dead," she said and watched as his jaw ticked, the same tell that Draco had when he was trying to hide something from her. "It's likely why you really don't approve of me."

Lucius's nostrils flared. "It is _one _of the reasons."

She nodded and smiled at the man. "I also know that I don't care. Because you put a Dark object in an eleven-year-old girl's cauldron that unleashed a monster at Hogwarts," she said, remembering the book she'd promised Ginny she'd leave behind at the Manor, making a note to apologise later as it was just too sad a thing to do to a man already _this _broken.

"Because you and your friends tried to kill me and mine in the Department of Mysteries. Because you let your only son, who I love _very _much," she continued, straightening her posture as she spoke, "follow in your footsteps when you knew perfectly well what kind of pain and suffering that came with it."

Lucius looked at his son and narrowed his eyes. "You let _her _command you now?"

Draco shook his head. "I let _no one_ command me now," he stated firmly. "When we marry, tomorrow, next year, or thirty years from now, it will be _our _decision. Any children we have will be raised as far from this place as possible. If I could take you and mother away from here and burn it to the ground, I would, to keep you both safe," he said angrily, his eyes a dark, molten silver.

Lucius stood again to argue. "Malfoys live in —"

"Then _my _children will not _be _Malfoys!" Draco snapped. "Let them be Blacks," he admitted and then, when Lucius looked ready to burst with rage, he added, "Let them be Grangers for all I care," and watched as his father's eyes widened in horror.

Before the man could say another word, however, Draco leaned forward and kissed Narcissa's cheek. "Mother, it was wonderful seeing you and I'm sorry to leave you so soon, but I'd like to spend the rest of Christmas with Hermione and her extended family. I'll stop by in the next few days and visit before returning to Hogwarts."

Narcissa smiled proudly at her son and held up a hand to stop Lucius as he attempted to speak. She pulled Draco into a gentle hug and then did the same for Hermione who smiled at her. "Thank you so much for having me," the young witch said. "I hate to cut this visit short, but . . . perhaps Sirius would like to remain behind and visit with you," she said, looking toward the door where her uncle had left earlier, likely doing his best to litter cigarette butts throughout the Malfoy's garden, or shift into Padfoot form to chase the peacocks around the estate. "I believe if you ask, he'd be willing to personally deliver a letter to Andromeda. He's annoying enough to demand a response from her as well."

Narcissa beamed at the younger witch. "You are a sweet girl. Very much like Regulus," she said, affectionately touching Hermione's black curls. "I'm so . . . so glad you came," she said and ignored the sound of Lucius storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him in a tantrum. She sighed and looked at Draco. "Your father is —"

"Broken," the young wizard said, sighing as he ran a hand through his pale locks in frustration. "He's very close to rock bottom and I think only when he hits it, will he be humbled enough to start the climb back out. Maybe then he'll resemble something of the man you once knew. The father I'd always wanted."

Narcissa smiled and took her son's face in her hands, kissing his cheeks. "You are a good man," she whispered.

Draco smiled softly in reply. "I have a good witch."

oOoOoOo

The pull of Apparition was slightly different as they pushed through the wards and Draco felt himself accepted as Hermione Side-Alonged him to a dark hallway in front of an open bedroom. He blinked and looked around curiously, following as she stepped inside. "This isn't the Burrow," he noted aloud, watching as his witch moved to the bed in the center of the room, covered by a deep green duvet covering the mattress.

She turned and smiled sweetly at him. "Have you ever been there before?" she asked as she sat down and he moved to join her. When he shook his head, her smile widened. "Then how do you know? And try to answer without insulting my friends."

He smirked and then thought for a good long moment on how to say, "Nothing here looks cheap" without getting smacked. "There's . . . I don't smell food? It's also quiet," he offered and she rolled her eyes, accepting the answer.

"We're at Grimmauld Place."

His brows raised. "Black Manor."

Hermione snorted. "Something like that."

"Do I get a tour?" he asked, looking around the room once again, noting immediately the Black family crest on the wall that should have jumped out at him at first sight. The silver and green in the room was almost overpowering. Even _his _bedroom back at Malfoy Manor wasn't so obviously Slytherin. It felt almost as though the room were trying to send a message.

"Do you want one?"

He turned and stared at his witch as she nervously fidgeted with her fingers, picking off a coat of lilac coloured nail polish that Daphne had painted on her a week earlier. "Why'd you bring me here?" he asked and then spotted a few framed photographs on a nearby shelf; one, in particular, was of Hermione with her two best friends, young enough that they couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen. "Is this _your _bedroom? It looks like . . . it's very Slytherin, Hermione," he said, clearing his throat to hide the chuckle.

She smirked and pushed at his shoulder. "It was my father's room. _My _room now. I just haven't changed anything."

"Comfortable here."

She nodded. "Yes, actually."

A nostalgic smile crossed his face. "You said that. In the Room of Requirement," he told her, remembering the moment as though it were yesterday. "When I'd turn it into the Slytherin common room. I offered to change it to red and gold, a great sacrifice on my part I might add, and you told me not to. That you were comfortable," he grinned, feeling as though perhaps she truly had always been meant for him. Her father was Slytherin after all, there was a likelihood that she'd been exposed to a bit of green and silver when she was very young. "I like your room."

Hermione blushed prettily and whispered, "I like you _in _my room."

The coy, subtly coquettish girl sitting in front of him was a pale echo of the woman who had just left behind a memory of Christmas at Malfoy Manor that was never to be forgotten. She'd forced Lucius Malfoy out of his own family room as though she wasn't afraid of anything, and now, here in her own bedroom she blushed and fidgeted and turned and smiled at him like the lamb instead of the lion. Draco grinned. "You stood up to my father," he said and reached for her hands, snatching one up and pulling it to his lips where he bestowed tiny kisses to the tips of her fingers.

She smirked. "It wasn't hard."

He kissed the inside of her wrist and then her forearm where the light lingerings of a scar remained, but he ignored the feel against his lips as he kissed the crook of her elbow. "It was very," he whispered as he lifted the edge of her blouse to kiss her shoulder, "very sexy," he said, kissing the base of her neck, sucking lightly at the skin, his nose brushing against the pearls that he'd placed there not twenty minutes earlier, feeling a sense of pride and possessiveness come over him, knowing what they stood for.

Hermione moaned as he worked his way up her arm, coming to rest his lips against the skin of her neck. She felt his lips part and his tongue dart out to taste her before he lightly sucked and nipped at her flesh, likely marking her. She didn't care. He'd already marked her. Long ago, branded himself into her like a hot iron. "I didn't . . ." she said and shakily exhaled, "I didn't get you anything good for Christmas." She swallowed hard and reached up, threading her fingers through his blond hair, marveling at the soft texture, even as she gripped harder when he bit her. "It might seem cheap, but I just thought that —"

Draco pulled away, eyes wide and dilated. "Yes?"

She nodded frantically. "Yes."

It was like coming home again, which Hermione thought very funny considering where they were at the moment. Surrounded in green and silver drapings that reminded her of the fake Slytherin common room that the Room of Requirement had created long ago. Books on the shelves, musty and old and smelling of leather and parchment, made her think of the library the room had conjured the very first night they'd . . . "Oh gods," she moaned and arched her back as Draco slipped a hand up her blouse to cup her breast, his other hand roamed down to slide against her hip and thigh. Snaking his fingers beneath her bra, his thumb brushed a taut nipple and Hermione shivered.

"Fuck," he moaned as the very sight of her beneath him, reacting to him, had him aching to be buried inside of her. "I forgot how responsive you were," he whispered and touched the nipple again, eliciting a repeat of the shiver.

As though she'd been challenged, Hermione rose to the occasion, gripping his belt and tugging hard and suddenly they were all fingers and grasping, clutching and tearing away at burdensome fabric that's only known purpose was to keep them from feeling the desperate relief of skin on skin.

She wore nothing but pearls when he was done laying her out like a feast before him, but instead of devouring her immediately, he cradled his hips between her naked thighs and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him tightly; holding himself to _her _as close as possible, the side of his face nestled between her breasts so that he could hear the heavy beat of her quickening heart rate.

She hissed and he growled when he finally slid inside of her, taking a moment to reacquaint himself to the exquisite tightness of her body; allowing her to relax and adjust to the feel of him filling her completely. And gods, he filled her _so _completely. Every dark and empty void within her body and her heart and her soul sealed up by him in one moment by either his body or his words or his very presence.

When he finally moved again, rocking his hips back and then forward, the friction lit something inside of her and she remembered, _remembered_, why she'd fought in a war. For freedom and goodness and light and all of that yes, but for this . . . for _life_. To feel alive. She looked up into his silvery depths and the sight of him above her, wet lips parted and panting, groaning as he . . . _made love to her? Fucked her?_ She wasn't entirely sure because the heat between them was too hot and desperate to be gentle, but too sweet and delicious to be rough.

It had been too long and neither of them were fit to last, so when Draco's rhythm became erratic she felt an excitement bubbling inside of her, tension building, a fire stoking, a spring deep down twisting and twisting and twisting and . . . "Fuck," Draco moaned as he thrust hard and deep, some animalistic instinct that almost forced his movements and he struck something inside of her and Hermione cried out, the twisting spring snapping lose. Her thighs squeezed his hips, her hands squeezed his shoulders, and the pulsing center of her body tightly squeezed the hard length of him that continued to piston in and out of her, using her climax to milk his from him.

oOoOoOo

Wrapped in green silk, Hermione rested her head against Draco's bare chest, eyes fluttering as she fought the urge to sleep. Their first physical reunion had been quick and heated, but recovery time was minimal and she'd not even had the chance to leave the bed before he was on her again, this time rougher, harder and she relished every moment. Finally spent, she draped her leg over his thigh, pinning him between her body and the bed and nestled herself against his side with her arms wrapped around his waist, trailing her fingers up and down the delicious lines of his stomach and hips.

Draco did his best not to react to her touch, knowing that they'd likely need food before he could go again. He distracted himself from her exploring fingers by picking through the books on her bedside table. "Is this . . . Hermione have you magically highlighted portions of _Hogwarts, a History_?" he asked, gaping at the text in front of him which looked like it had a coloured chart hovering a fraction of an inch above the actual text in the book.

Hermione scoffed. "I couldn't use _actual _highlighters on ink. It would damage the book. I take special care of my books, thank you very much."

He smirked. "Says the girl who uses feathers for bookmarks," he said, replacing the grey feather back between the pages where he'd found it.

She shrugged. "Leo's molting. Put the book down and cuddle with me."

He looked down at her and raised a pale brow. "You're asking me to choose _you _over a _book_? I'd be hexed if I'd asked such a thing of _you_."

She laughed and grabbed the book, yanking it out of his hands and gently tossing it to the table. "Prat," she said and smiled when he pulled her up to kiss her deeply, his tongue languidly exploring her mouth. She sighed happily when they parted and she leaned her head back on his chest, smiling when she could feel him twirling her hair around his fingers. "I miss Hogwarts," she whispered. "It . . . the past few months has felt like we could be children again and not have to worry about things like war and growing up too fast because of war."

He nodded and kissed the top of her head. "I know what you mean. I think that's why sixth year was so —"

"Intense?" She grinned.

Draco laughed. "It was an escape from the darkness," he admitted. "A reminder that we really were just teenagers. Rebellious youths."

"Mmm. Our only thoughts revolving around classes, exams, and —"

"Fucking," he growled in her ear.

"Draco," she moaned at the words.

He smirked and touched her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Oh, she blushes. That's a bit misleading, Miss Granger," he said and leaned forward to capture her lips, not giving much care to the fact that they'd both be swollen and sore by the next day. His movements were stopped by a soft pop in the corner of the room and Draco looked up to see a decrepit old house-elf standing there. Unperturbed by the elf's presence, Draco didn't react, but Hermione squeaked and jumped and flung the green sheets up and over her head in horror as though they'd just been caught shagging in the Great Hall by McGonagall.

"Special Young Miss has returned, would she and the Young Master Malfoy like a beverage or some sandwiches, Kreacher will make her favourites if she —"

"Kreacher, I'm fine!" Hermione shouted from beneath the sheets and Draco laughed. "We're fine, thank you!"

The blond wizard grinned and put his hands behind his head, amused at her strange modesty around the elf. "How many bloody elves do you have, Granger?"

She peeked from beneath the sheets and sighed. "Technically only Winston thanks to you," she said with narrowed eyes. "Kreacher and Meela are both bound to the House of Black."

There was another louder pop and Winston, still wearing the red bow on her head, appeared. "Mistress calls for Winston?"

Hermione groaned. "Oh for the love of . . . no, Winston. You may return to Hogwarts, or . . . or wherever you'd like to be. It's Christmas, please just enjoy yourself." The little elf took one look at Kreacher before sticking her nose in the air, as though Draco himself had taught her, and then vanished.

Kreacher looked positively affronted. "Special Young Miss has a new elf. Does she not need Kreacher?" he asked, his eyes big and worried. "Should Kreacher ask for his head to be removed and put on the wall to be honoured with his ancestors?"

Draco's gaze widened and he looked down at Hermione in mild horror. "What the fuck?"

The witch sighed. "No, Kreacher. And like I said, you are _not _bound to me but to the House of Black. The House of Black _always _needs Kreacher if Kreacher wants to be here. I will not have your head chopped off no matter . . . ugh . . . no matter how much you want it to be."

Kreacher seemed to ignore most of her words, instead looking hopeful at the prospect of not being replaced. "Kreacher is needed?"

"Yes."

"What does Special Young Miss need Kreacher to do?"

"Oh, Merlin," she sighed and ran her hands through her hair trying to think of something that wouldn't be too horrible or overtaxing for the old elf, that would still make him feel useful. "Umm . . . oh, Kreacher will you deliver a message to Sirius and let him know that I'm at Grimmauld Place? I don't want him to worry."

Kreacher nodded and then looked as though he was about to leave before he stopped and turned his attention back to Hermione and Draco. "Kreacher cannot."

Her brows furrowed. "Why not?"

"Kreacher does not sense Master Sirius."

Her mouth fell open and she sucked in a sharp breath. "What?"

Draco frowned. "What does that mean?" he asked, knowing enough about elf magic to know that Kreacher's words could not mean anything good.

Unlike the two humans, the house-elf didn't look bothered in the slightest. "Kreacher can only sense and locate the Master when he walks on two feet," he explained.

Hermione clutched at her chest and breathed deeply. "Oh! Gods, I was worried for a moment," she said and relaxed as Draco ran his fingers down her back to help calm her. "In that case —"

"Hermione, your bird's here," Draco said, gesturing to the window. Before either of them could leave the bed to open it for the little black and grey owl, Kreacher was at the edge, prying open the glass, allowing Leo to flutter inside.

"Come here, Leo," Hermione smiled as the bird perched itself on the headboard, holding its leg out to Hermione and lightly snapping its small beak in Draco's direction. "You've got a letter for me?" she asked the owl, pulling the rolled parchment from its leg "It's from Sirius," she said as she opened it, ignoring Draco as he waved his hand at the bird, shooing it away from the bed. "He and Severus went back to the Burrow after we left and apparently the wards around Grimmauld Place let him know that we were here," she said, a blush returning to her cheeks. "He says to stay as long as we'd like as he figures we'd need some time to process what happened at your house."

"My _parent's _house," Draco corrected her.

"It's still technically —"

"No," he insisted. "Your cottage will be our home," he said and then immediately flushed, realising what he'd said. "That is . . . I mean, we haven't exactly discussed moving in together after Hogwarts. I'm sorry if I just assumed that —"

Hermione beamed up at him. "I want to," she said and then kissed him. "The cottage. With you."


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: My self-control is just a joke now. 4 chapters in one week. Enjoy!

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirty-One

_Noctua_

* * *

**March 2nd, 1999**

Winter came and went and, after taking a look around Iliad Cottage for the first time in years, Hermione returned to Hogwarts with Draco feeling like the world was slowly beginning to right itself. They had school to finish, both at the top of their class, potential jobs lined up — not that either needed one — and a beautiful home to return to once they left school for the last time. Hermione didn't change much of the house while they were there, a few charms to organise some things that were left behind, and she was adamant that Draco not begin making plans to turn the massive backyard into a Quidditch pitch.

They returned to school and fell back into classes with ease, acting like regular teenagers and not veterans of war. Draco had even been able to convince her to sneak back into broom closets from time to time. It was only when Harry had cornered them in the Gryffindor common room, teasingly asking them where they'd been earlier that night, that Draco learned the reason for Hermione's constant suspicions of going anywhere outside the Room of Requirement during their initial secret relationship.

"_This_ is why we had to meet in the Room of Requirement all sixth year? A bloody charmed Map?" he asked, glaring down at the large parchment in Harry's hands. He'd known _a _Map existed, having read bits of Hermione's father's diaries, but it was _Potter's _Map?

Harry and Ron had been chuckling over the reveal as the four gathered together in front of the fireplace in Gryffindor tower, Draco with his arms wrapped around Hermione, holding onto her as though she were the only thing keeping him from pummeling her two idiot friends for spying on them.

"Ugh . . . the Room of Requirement, Hermione?" Ron groaned. "Is nothing sacred?"

She laughed. "Shut up, Ronald. I _know _you snuck Luna off into the Prefect's bathroom yesterday."

He shrugged. "It was my birthday."

Draco smirked and whispered in Hermione's ear, "My birthday is June fifth."

"I know that," she said, rolling her eyes.

He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Just pointing it out," he said and turned his attention back to her friends; Ron, who was peeling open a box of Bertie Botts, and Harry, who was staring at the Map with a curious look on his face. "So, charmed Map, Invisibility Cloak. Anything else I should know about considering you three have apparently been sneaking around the school for seven years with ease?"

Ron snorted. "Ease? You remember detention first year? Forbidden Forest?"

Draco shrugged. "It's not _my _fault you got caught out after curfew."

"_You_ were the one that caught us!"

Hermione sighed and pinched Draco's leg reproachfully, knowing that he was purposely provoking her friend. "No, we don't have anything else. Ron, calm down. Bygones and such."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said and then looked up at the black-haired wizard. "Harry what's wrong?"

Harry looked up, eyes wide as though he'd been caught with a _Play Wizard_ magazine instead of the heirloom Map. "What? Er . . . nothing," he said quickly and Draco frowned at how easily the two other Gryffindors believed the obvious lie. "Just umm . . . hey Hermione, is there a reason someone would vanish from the Map?"

She looked up curiously. "Why? Oh, it's a full moon. Sirius and Remus won't appear on it," she said matter of factly.

Draco raised a brow. "Why's that?" he asked, peering over Harry's shoulder at the Map, spotting the four of them in Gryffindor Tower, their names written over hovering footprints.

"Because Remus will have transformed by now and Sirius will be in his Animagus form," she explained.

Harry frowned. "The Map shows Animagi though. How else would I have seen Peter Pettigrew during our third year?"

Hermione sat up straight into what Draco was learning was her "lecturing pose". "Sirius explained it in class a few months ago when we were talking about elves, remember?" she asked and when both Harry and Ron just stared back at her, she groaned. "Ugh, do the pair of you ever pay attention? Remember, Draco and I were asking why Kreacher wasn't able to sense Sirius in his Animagus form and he was talking about the disconnect between wizard and animal.

"When an Animagus slips into his form, he has to fight the urge to give in to its animalistic instincts. It's like a switch in their head that they can consciously turn on and off. Elves can't sense them in their forms regardless of whether or not they flick on the switch, but the Map uses a locator spell to reveal the people around Hogwarts that traces their magical signature. But an Animagus technically has a double signature because of the extra layer of consciousness, similar . . . but not exactly like a werewolf. So when Sirius goes into the Shrieking Shack with Remus, he gives in to the Animagus nature and _becomes _Padfoot instead of just . . . _wearing _him. When he makes the switch, he'll likely disappear from the Map the same way Remus will when he transforms into a werewolf."

Harry looked back down a the Map. "I guess that makes sense."

Hermione smiled. "It's also why Fred and George probably never asked Ron why there was a man named Peter Pettigrew sleeping in his bed for the first three years he was at Hogwarts," she said and chuckled to herself.

Ron paled. "Ugh. Can we . . . can we not revisit that?"

Draco's eyes widened. "Pettigrew? _Peter _Pettigrew slept in your bed?"

"He was a rat at the time!" Ron said defensively. "And . . . I don't want to talk about it," he added, crossing his arms over his chest while Draco laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Pettigrew was in his rat form for so many years he likely slipped into his Animagus consciousness which would make him not appear on the Map, but then after hearing about Sirius's escape, he came in and out of the Animagus mind which was why he appeared on the Map during our third year."

"I had always wondered about that," Ron said, picking through the box of Beans and smelling each one, separating them into two piles. One was obvious "do not eat" like black pepper and grass, the other pile was questionables. Draco thought about pointing out that the yellowish one in the questionable pile wasn't banana like Ron likely thought, but vomit.

"Can we go back to the fact that Peter Pettigrew slept in your bed?" Draco said with a smirk.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Can we go back to the time when Gryffindor Tower was just for Gryffindors?"

Hermione smiled and leaned into Draco's side. "You want to tell your Ravenclaw girlfriend that?" she asked the redhead whose ears turned pink. She laughed and then looked up at Harry who had his attention pulled back to the Map. "Harry, are you all right?"

He looked up again and swallowed. "What? Er . . . yeah, I'm fine."

She frowned. "Is this about Sirius and Remus?"

"What? No, of course not," he insisted. "That wasn't even really a surprise. Not very subtle, are they?" he chuckled.

"Cauldron meet kettle," Draco murmured.

"What?"

Draco shook his head. "Nothing at all."

It was sometime near Valentine's Day when Blaise came pleading to Hermione and Draco, begging them to arrange an intervention for Harry and Pansy because the pathetic attempts at sneaking around were just getting out of hand. Figuring that Harry was worried about his friends reactions to his not-so-secret girlfriend, Hermione, Ron, Draco, and a few others had gathered together in the Defence classroom after dinner to corner the Boy Who Lived and beg him to out his relationship to the world.

Harry had misinterpreted the intervention and, instead, thought they were all there to confront Remus and Sirius. Before anyone had a chance to ask Harry if he'd been in the Slytherin common room lately, he'd stood up and made a grand speech about loving his godfather no matter what, and hoping that he would be able to find love . . . with whoever that might be. Witch, wizard, or werewolf . . . Sirius was just a man happy to enjoy love.

And sex.

Harry and Pansy had gone on with their sordid affair and Remus and Sirius vanished the yellow line in the middle of their quarters and transfigured the two twin beds back into one large four-poster.

"Do you think they shag in the Shrieking Shack?" Ron asked and both Harry and Hermione groaned loudly in disgust.

"Ugh, why would you ask that? That's my uncle!"

"That's my godfather!"

"What?" Ron laughed at their expense. "They left Hogwarts hours before the sun set. That's all I'm saying."

"How about we talk about your parents having sex then?" Harry spat and Ron grimaced, accepting defeat and tossing them each an apologetic glance.

Hermione stood, using Draco's shoulders to help leverage her to her feet where she then gently ran her fingers through his hair affectionately. "I need a drink to wash away the imagery from my head. Anyone want a butterbeer?"

Draco smirked up at her. "Firewhisky?"

She scoffed. "Nice try. Anyone want to help me?"

"You could call the elf," he suggested but was met with a set of narrowed grey eyes.

"I'll go," Ron said as he stood to his feet, scooping up half the Bertie's Beans and putting them back in the box, vanishing the other pile with his wand. "I want to see if they've got some extra cakes from dinner," he added and made for the portrait hole beside Hermione, leaving Draco and Harry to themselves.

"Play nice," she said.

Draco grinned. "Don't I always?" he asked and then, the very second that the door shut, he turned on Harry. "So, what's actually wrong?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

Draco rolled his eyes at his former nemesis. "You may be able to fool your friends, but you're so easy to read it's ridiculous really. So what's wrong?"

Harry frowned, looking affronted. "Why do you care?"

The blonde sighed irritably. "Because I'm a fully reformed arsehole. Plus, ignoring the fact that whenever _you're _in a foul mood, _Pansy's _in a foul mood and no, don't even say anything because we've reached a state where your denial has become utterly pitiful, Potter," he said, holding up a hand when Harry made to defend himself or come up with some other excuse as to how and why he wasn't _actually _dating Pansy Parkinson. "Even if that weren't the case, you acting all upset and pensive makes Hermione anxious and angry. I'd like my witch to _not _be those things. Angry sex is awesome, but she doesn't do _anything _when she's worried."

Harry glared back at him. "Can you not talk about your sex life with Hermione? She's like my sister."

Draco shrugged. "Depends, can you actually cast a proper Silencing Charm?" he said bitterly. "Because Pansy is like _my _sister and I really didn't need to know that she likes to be called a 'dirty little girl' in Parseltongue."

Harry's face turned bright red and his green eyes widened dramatically. "I . . . I . . . it's not what —"

"I really don't care about your clearly masochistic kinks, Potter," Draco admitted, only slightly relishing in the utter humiliation of the other boy. "You and I have a mutual understanding. I hurt Hermione, you hurt me and the same is applied to you and Pansy whether you want to go public or not. I'm not talking about that though. I want to know why you're acting like you've got a great big secret."

Harry frowned and glanced back down at the large parchment in his lap. "Because . . . I think I do."

"And? I'm not a bloody mind reader."

The black-haired boy sighed. "You can't tell Hermione."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I don't keep secrets from my witch."

"I think . . . it would hurt her. I'm not even sure I . . ."

"Spit it out, Potter!"

"I was looking at the Map and . . . I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"Regulus Black."

Draco blinked several times before staring at Harry Potter and wondering if the Ministry wasn't right about him being mental, all those years ago. "What? What do you mean you saw Regulus Black?" he asked incredulously.

Harry growled defensively. "I mean, Malfoy, that I saw his bloody name clear as day," he said, tapping his finger against the Map.

"Where?"

"In the Forbidden Forest. It was moving, just there," Harry said, looking back down at the place where the name had appeared to him. "I saw it and I had to double-check because I thought it was Sirius at first and I know he's supposed to be in the Shack with Remus. It was right there," he said, tapping the parchment again, "and then it just . . . vanished."

Draco swallowed and tried to think of all the variety of explanations, none of which were adequate enough and every single one of them sounded absolutely insane. "Animagi?" he asked and Harry shrugged. "Snape said . . . Snape told Hermione that he knew Regulus was dead because the house-elf, Meela, couldn't sense him."

Harry nodded. "But if he was an Animagus?"

Draco shook his head. "That's just . . . he was only nineteen when he died. Most don't even achieve their transformations until they've graduated Hogwarts and he was in the middle of a war with a wife and a kid."

"My dad and Sirius made their first transformation when they were fourteen or fifteen," Harry said. "If that were true, then wouldn't the house-elf have sensed him the minute he transformed back?"

Draco frowned. "Unless he never did," he said and then wiped his hands down his face and groaned. "Fuck. Hermione can't know about this. Not until . . . shit. We need more information."

oOoOoOo

More information came the following day when everyone gathered together for Advanced Transfiguration. Harry spoke very little of what he'd seen in the Map, but both he and Draco made a point to ask as many questions as possible to try and figure out the potential mystery of the name. "The Map never lies," Harry had insisted.

"Professor Black?" Draco called out, raising his hand as he sat beside Hermione who was doting upon the kneazle sitting in her lap, having transfigured his bright orange fur pink, making him look like a giant pygmy puff. "I was wondering if we could talk more about Animagi?"

Sirius smirked down the Slytherin and nodded as he leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. "Thinking about making the greatest decision of your life?" he asked with a grin.

Draco shook his head and chuckled. "Not even remotely."

"Worried about your form?" Ron asked with a smirk and Draco knew exactly what the redhead was implying.

"Yes," he replied honestly and then turned his attention back to Hermione's uncle. "I was wondering, how can a person tell the difference between an Animagus and an actual animal?"

Sirius raised his brows, amused at the genuine questions. "Well, they can't," he replied. "Not even all Animagi can properly sense each other out. For instance, I was an Animagus for years roaming around Hogwarts and good old Professor McGonagall never knew it," he said smugly and half the class chuckled.

"Kneazles can sniff out Animagi though," Hermione said proudly as she lifted Crookshanks in her arms and kissed him right on his squished mouth.

"Yes, they can," Sirius agreed. "Kneazles are incredibly intelligent creatures who are almost bred for the task of sniffing out Animagi. I could shift into my form and Crookshanks would be able to pick me out of a lineup of other black dogs very easily. The only problem is that kneazles can sniff out Animagi, but if you were to put me and Professor McGonagall in the same room and tell Crookshanks to find the hidden Animagus, he would pick either of us, even if you were searching for one specifically."

Harry raised his hand, drawing the attention of his godfather. "Is there any reason why an Animagus would stay in their form for a prolonged period?"

Sirius frowned and Draco rolled his eyes. _Way to play it subtle, Potter_, he thought. "Well," Sirius began, "that's a good question actually. Most are now aware that I remained in my form for a good length of time to avoid Dementors while in Azkaban. Like house-elves, they struggle to sense Animagi. I'm actually the reason they've installed anti-Animagi wards on the prison," he said with a grin. "I also remained in Animagus form for a long period during my initial escape. It was easier to stay on the move and be properly hidden. Plus, good folks are willing to part with a little food for a homeless dog than a crazy looking man in prison robes."

Ron muttered quietly. "Animagi can stay in their form to hide as well. For years."

"That's true." Sirius nodded in understanding and everyone could see the way he slightly tensed at the subject. "It takes a great deal of magical effort to remain in your form of your own free will and would do rotten things to the mind over a period of years without shifting back."

Harry looked down, angrily furrowing his brows and both Ron and Hermione frowned. Draco, however, raised his hand again. "What do you mean, of your own free will?"

Sirius cleared his throat. "There are . . . spells that can lock an Animagus in their form. It's much like human to animal transfiguration except those spells eventually wear off over time. It's a nasty bit of Dark magic. Right up there with Unforgivables as far as we Animagi are concerned," he said looking angry just talking about it. "You'll have to ask Professor Lupin if you want to learn more about it."

Draco nodded and then turned to look at Harry whose eyes were wide.

oOoOoOo

"We _have _to tell Hermione."

Draco grabbed Harry by his robes and pulled him into a dark corner, glancing around to make certain they weren't overheard or seen whispering together. Hermione would know something was up and Pansy was not above accusing Draco for stealing her pet Gryffindor. "We don't have enough information," he snapped. "We don't even know if what you saw was —"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You calling me a liar, Malfoy?"

"I'm saying the likelihood of us jumping to conclusions is pretty fucking high, _Potter_," Draco spat. "Even _if _we're right, we can't track him because no spell will work, we can't use your stupid Map unless he slips out of his Animagus consciousness, and we don't even know what the fuck he would _be _because there are no records that Regulus Black was a bloody Animagus. He could be a godsdamned unicorn for all we know!"

Harry's mouth fell open. "Records."

"What?" Draco snapped angrily.

"The diaries," Harry said, gripping Draco by the shoulders as though they'd just discovered some great thing and the boy was in a celebratory mood. Draco eased out of Harry's grip just in case the Gryffindor was eager for a kiss as well. "You have to get the diaries," Harry said. "There would be something in them, right? Anything."

Draco sighed. "I've _seen _the diaries, Potter. There's nothing. Poetic references to Hermione's mother's hair, detailed descriptions of Death Eater revels and the self-hatred that comes after, and long-winded recounts of Quidditch games and . . ." His eyes widened as a thought dug itself into his mind and burrowed there.

"What?"

"No broom," Draco whispered.

Harry paused and then slowly asked, "Care to elaborate?"

"Hermione and I . . . after Christmas we went to see Iliad Cottage," he explained. "The one that belonged to her parents. Severus kept it just as it was when Regulus and Hermione lived there. Nothing was changed other than he'd kept it clean. Hermione's old toys were still on the ground in her room and there were papers and notebooks, detailed maps of London and Wizarding villages."

"And?"

"There was no broom!" Draco practically shouted, gripping Harry's shoulders the same way that had been done to him, not minutes earlier. "I know because I was telling Hermione the backyard was a perfect place to build a Quidditch pitch and I wanted to take a ride around to look at the property, but there was no broom in the entire house."

Harry looked confused. "So?"

"You're a Seeker, Potter. Just like me. Just like Regulus Black," Draco said, hoping that the other wizard could figure this out without it being spelled out for him.

It all made sense. Regulus's diaries, the black and grey feathers Hermione used as bookmarks, the fact that Meela couldn't sense him. Severus had even mentioned that he'd no idea how Regulus arrived at Spinner's End, half-drowned when there was no sound of Apparition. He hadn't Apparated at all. He'd escaped in Animagus form. Everything made sense.

Including the fact that Hermione's fucking owl bit Draco at every opportunity.

"Tell me, Potter, what kind of wizard loves flying more than anything else in the world, doesn't have a fucking _broom _at his own house?"

Harry's green eyes widened in sudden understanding. "One who doesn't need a broom to fly."


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Didn't expect another chapter so soon, didja? Well, Chapter 31 is now the second most reviewed chapter in the whole story, and all in less than 16 hours! You guys are amazing! I award amazing people! Also, there was TONS of speculation and I didn't want you all to be focused on finding out all the secrets and then spoiling it all for yourselves. Just a heads up, this chapter was decided on before Chapter One was even written. Fluffpanda and I sat down and worked it all out in our head and then based the whole story around it.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirty-Two

_Liberum_

* * *

**March 1999**

In a pitiful attempt at verifying their theory, Harry had "borrowed" Crookshanks for the day, following the half-kneazle around the castle whispering, "Find the Animagus, Crookshanks," while dodging the occasional attack from the beast. The first time, the orange cat had led Harry out to Hagrid's hut and Harry had been in full investigative mode until he saw Sirius step out on the front porch and let out a defeated sigh. "Not _that _Animagus, Crookshanks," he said and then quietly followed the beast up to the owlery where they'd run into Professor McGonagall trying to discipline one of her cats who had chased one of the smaller owls up onto the rafters only to get itself stuck there.

Draco, meanwhile, knew — _knew _— what Regulus's Animagus form was and every morning when they'd go to breakfast, he sat beside Hermione and tested his theory as the owls came flying in with the morning post. Leo, the little black and grey owl, would perch in front of Hermione, accepting pieces of bacon and eggs before rubbing his head into the palm of her hand and Draco would snake his arm around her waist or lean in close to brush his lips against her neck and, sure enough, the little beast would bite him.

It was funny, at first, Draco provoking the little bird, until one morning when he'd realised that if he was correct, he'd been purposely trying to aggravate his future father-in-law by groping the man's only daughter. From that point on, anytime Leo was near Hermione, Draco kept his distance. He too easily remembered his godfather's words regarding the man:

"_Regulus Black would have torn you to pieces, put you back together — slowly — and then delivered you back to his daughter but only after Obliviating you. He'd feel guilty about it, but . . . the man was not one to be trifled with. He had very specific hopes regarding his daughter and keeping her away from Malfoys was at the top of that list."_

"We need to get that owl," Harry said, walking up and whispering to Draco as they made their way to Charms that morning.

Draco looked up, eyes wide. "You leave that fucking owl alone. Or get it yourself. I want nothing to do with it."

"If that thing really is Regulus, we need to convince him to transform back. Hermione deserves to know the truth."

Draco stopped and sighed, turning to face the other boy, waiting a few moments as other students passed them, some looking warily at the pair as though they expected them to start hexing one another. "First, we don't know that he's alive, we only suspect because you think you saw —"

"The Map never lies."

"— something on an old piece of charmed parchment. Second, if he _is _alive, we don't actually know that he's the bloody bird. It makes sense, of course, but still. Third, do you really think that he's kept to himself this long on purpose? Think, Potter, think," Draco said and tapped the side of Harry's head with his index finger. "If that man loved his daughter, his best friend, and his brother as much as those diary entries say he did, then what would keep him in that form?"

Harry paused and then his mouth opened. "That curse. The trapping one that Sirius was talking about in class."

"Five points to Gryffindor," Draco said sarcastically. "We need to find out how to break the curse."

Harry frowned. "It's not really a curse. More like a Locking Charm. At least that's what Sirius said."

Draco turned and glared at Harry. "What? He didn't say that. Wait . . . you've been talking to him about this?"

The black-haired wizard shook his head. "Not about this specifically, but I talked with him later on. He is my godfather, you know. I asked him more about the spell because I was worried that something like that could happen to him."

"And?"

"And he said that anyone can break it. I've seen the spell myself," Harry said. "Remus and Sirius used it on Peter Pettigrew at the end of our third year in the Shrieking Shack. They told Ron to give over the rat and that if Scabbers wasn't actually Peter, the spell wouldn't hurt him at all, he'd just stay a rat."

Draco leaned up against the wall and sighed as he tried to think of the various ways this could completely blow up in their faces. "We have to get that owl. Or, more importantly, _you _have to get that owl."

"Why me?"

"Because the little fucker bites me," the blonde explained and Harry laughed.

"Well, what do you expect?" he asked. "You are sleeping with the man's only daughter. Maybe you've got it coming," he suggested with a teasing grin.

Draco stared at him in silence for a good solid minute before smirking. "One letter, Potter. One letter to Pansy's parents is all it would take."

Harry glared at his childhood rival. "I'm not afraid of them. You think Pansy would let anyone, even her parents, boss her around? She'll leave me when she wants to," he said, for the first time since the beginning of the school year, actually acknowledging his relationship with the Slytherin witch.

Draco chuckled. "You're the bloody Chosen One, Scarhead," he said with a grin. "You think her parents will insist that she _leave _you? Half-blood or not, you're the Savior of the Wizarding World. One letter to Pansy's parents and they'll be trying to arrange a betrothal contract between the pair of you."

Harry's face suddenly drained of all colour and Draco grinned and clapped him on the back. "Welcome to my world, Potter."

"Fine, I'll get the owl," Harry muttered. "But I need to talk to Sirius and Remus. I don't actually remember the spell they used on Pettigrew and I can't find it in any books."

Draco nodded. "No, you wouldn't. Forcing an Animagus out of their form against their will might be as bad as forcing them _into _it," he said with a sigh. "Fuck. Can you ask them without being completely obvious?" he asked and then shook his head, not giving Harry enough time to answer. "Of course you can't. Fuck. I really don't want to tell them without having more proof than this."

"Telling who what without proof of what?" Hermione said, jumping out from behind the corner.

"Ahh!" Harry and Draco both shouted, scooting away from the witch with guilty looks on their faces.

She folded her arms across her chest. "What are you two up to? You've been sneaking around and whispering for days."

"Have not," Harry immediately said defensively and Draco turned and glared at him like he was stupid. "I mean . . . it's . . . none of your business, Hermione, we're just . . . nothing."

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Quidditch. You could have said anything about Quidditch and she would have just rolled her eyes and ignored us the rest of the day."

Hermione frowned, an equal mixture of anger and hurt in her expressive eyes. "Why are you two hiding something from me?" she asked..

Harry looked down guiltily and Draco sighed in resignation. "We . . . we need to talk to your uncle," he said. "Potter found something and we've been trying to fix it. For you." He reached out for her, threading his fingers through hers and pulling her close to his chest before she had a chance to let her anger over their secrets fester and run away. Draco kissed her cheek and then the space behind her ear and let go of her hand to wrap his arms around her waist.

Hermione frowned, looking over Draco's shoulder, as he buried his face in her neck, at Harry who finally looked up and furrowed his brows together in a look far too reminiscent of the moment she'd woken at Grimmauld Place after her encounter with Bellatrix, only to be told the ramifications of what had happened. "Harry?" she whispered.

He bit his lower lip and sighed. "C'mon, Hermione. Let's go talk to Sirius."

oOoOoOo

Hermione sat on the small sofa in Sirius and Remus's rooms, staring down at the cold cup of tea in front of her that Remus had poured the moment they'd stepped inside, Harry begging for time with the pair. Draco sat next to her, rubbing the knuckle of his index finger against her arm, not wanting to impose himself too much into her personal bubble as she looked ready to run at any moment.

Harry stood in the middle of the room, facing his godfather with an anxious expression on his face. Sirius, leaning against the foot of the bed, subconsciously reached his hand out for Remus, who offered it without a word. "Harry," Sirius said. "Do you realise . . . this is just . . . you know this sounds insane, right?" he finally said, landing on the feeling that was swirling around in his own head when his godson had walked into the room and declared that he was certain — _certain! _— that Regulus was not only alive, but was an Animagus. And not just _any _Animagus, but the bloody owl that Sirius had bought for Hermione himself.

"I saw it on the Map," Harry said.

"And you're certain it wasn't Sirius's name that you saw?" Remus questioned.

"It was during the full moon," Harry replied. "I watched the pair of you on the Map go into the Shrieking Shack. I know what I saw."

"I don't doubt you, Harry," Remus insisted. "This is just —"

"Insane," Sirius jumped in and then looked over at Hermione. "You all right, princess?"

She silently shook her head. "It . . . it makes sense. The feathers."

"What feathers?" Sirius rose a brow.

"I've been finding black and grey feathers in books. The diaries. I thought that maybe I'd left them open while reading and . . . Leo's been molting so I thought," she said and then had to clear her throat before she let the emotions overwhelm her. "If . . . what if they were already there? The feathers. I don't remember them before I got Leo, but then again I was only reading the early years of his diaries. Long before he could have had the chance to learn how to become a —"

"It's not . . ." Sirius said, interrupting her. "Most Animagi don't even begin the process until their last year of Hogwarts, and even then it's under the guidance of a Master . . . and . . . he was too young, when would he have —"

Remus squeezed his hand. "You and James were fifteen," he pointed out. "And the Black family has always had a natural talent at Transfiguration."

Sirius nodded and then looked up at Hermione who sighed. "It's my best subject," she said. "Always has been. Regulus's too," she added. "I wanted to compare my exam scores to my parents so I looked it all up. He got perfect scores on everything to do with Transfiguration. Well above his year."

Harry stepped forward and stood side-by-side with his godfather. "Where did you get the owl?"

Sirius shook his head. "Same place I got yours," he answered. "Just a shop."

"And nothing was suspicious about it?" Remus asked.

Sirius sighed. "I . . . I liked the colouring is all. Black and grey feathers. Made me think of Hermione's hair and eyes and I thought it would be a nice reminder that she," he paused and looked at his niece. "That you were on my mind. That you had family thinking about you."

She smiled up at him and then finally pushed the cold cup of tea away. "We have to figure it out. If Draco and Harry are right, then he's been trapped in Leo's body for almost seventeen years. We need to free him."

Harry stood upright. "Do we go to the owlery then? You two know the spell," he said, looking back to Remus and Sirius.

Remus shook his head. "It's more complicated than that, Harry. Yes, we know the spell but . . . seventeen years against his will? We'll need at least two people casting, maybe three. And away from the castle."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Why away from the castle?"

"Because," the werewolf said, "this isn't just a simple aim and shoot kind of spell. With the level of power we need behind it, the magic will envelope the entire surrounding area. If Professor McGonagall is anywhere near us when we cast, she'll feel it and gods help us all if she's in her Animagus form at the time and we shift her against her will. Sirius will have to be in Padfoot form to make sure it works," he added and then looked to Hermione. "You'll have to cast with me, Hermione. Harry or Draco as well."

Draco looked up. "Not me," he said. "I . . . no offense but I'd very much like my wand to not have anything to do with this. My magic is still associated with Voldemort and he'll feel it. It might make it a much more negative experience than it needs to be."

Hermione frowned. "He'd feel it?"

Draco nodded. "If someone casts magic on me, I can tell the difference between Death Eater and . . . and not," he said. "I think it was some sort of failsafe if . . . _when _there was a big battle. That way we'd always know who our . . . _allies _were," he said bitterly. "He'll have the same magic and . . . I don't want him to feel that. Not from me."

Sirius actually smiled at the boy. "Understandable."

"Where will we do it?" Hermione asked.

"Hagrid's hut," Harry suggested. "It's away from the castle and secluded. We could all be inside when we do it and no one will know. Plus he . . . he won't be able to get out," he added as an afterthought.

"Why would he try to get out?" Sirius asked.

"Do you remember what you're like after prolonged periods as Padfoot?" Remus asked him with a raised brow.

Sirius nodded. "Fair enough. Can't think of what I'd do if I had wings. Right . . . ummm," he sighed and wiped his hands down his face. "Let's do this as soon as possible. I won't be able to think of anything else until it's over with. Hermione can you —"

"I'll go to the owlery right now and meet you all down at Hagrid's," she said and jumped from her seat, rushing toward the door and leaving them all behind in utter silence.

Eventually, Draco stood. "I'll . . . I'll go with her," he said and frowned as he gave a respectful nod to both Sirius and Remus before he turned and left the room.

oOoOoOo

Draco found her in the owlery, the grey and black bird perched on her arm, nuzzling its fluffy head into the palm of her hand. She was sitting on the window ledge, wiping the back of her hand against her eyes as she stared at the small creature, muttering softly to it. "Are you . . . are you really my . . ."

"Hermione?" Draco called out to her.

She looked up quickly and then cleared her throat. "Got him," she said, trying — and failing — to hide the nervous emotion written on her face. "We should get going and umm . . . get this over with."

Draco reached out to stop her, putting a hand on her arm in the process only to get nipped at by the owl. He grit his teeth and held back the curse trying to force its way past his tongue. "Granger, stop," he said.

"Not Granger," she said, shaking her head. "I'm . . . I'm a Black now and he might be alive and he might be my familiar and this is all too real and . . . I'll have . . . what do I even call him?" she asked, looking back at Draco as her tears finally spilled over onto her cheeks. "He doesn't know me and I don't know him and he's not my . . . but he _is _and I . . . I _mourned _him," she said and winced when the owl released her arm and flew away, perching itself on a ledge near the door, staring at the couple as though waiting for them. "I'd mourned him, Draco, and I never knew him, but the diaries made me know him and . . . and love him and now . . . I don't know how to do this," she cried and fell into his arms the very second that they opened for her.

"Sure you do," he whispered in her ear. "You do what you Gryffindors always do. Recklessly wing it."

She huffed. "I do not just '_wing it_'," she said indignantly. "Everything I've ever done, from studying for O.W.L.s to hunting Horcruxes had a very detailed plan to it."

Draco smiled and kissed her forehead. "No offense love, but those plans sucked. Everyone in the school knew that you had a nervous breakdown during O.W.L.s, and you, Potter, and Weasley starved for months that last year of the war. Did your massively detailed plan not include proper food storage?" He smiled and kissed her lips when they pouted at him. "Face it, Granger, and yes . . . you are _Granger_. Granger and Black and maybe one day Malfoy but always Hermione," he insisted. "A Gryffindor to the core who does that thing that all Gryffindors do when they pretend to be brave when they're really, very scared."

She nodded. "What if . . . what if he doesn't like me? The conscious Animagus is different from the subconscious and even Sirius is different when he fully embraces his mind as Padfoot. For instance, Sirius hates exercise of any form and Padfoot loves to run and play fetch and —"

Draco kissed her to stop her words and her thoughts and he only pulled away when she sighed into his mouth. "He'll love you. Everyone loves you," he whispered. "And if he doesn't . . . I'll hex him," he said with a smirk.

Hermione smiled. "What if he doesn't like _you_?" she asked.

Draco forced himself not to visibly recoil at the suggestion. He _knew _he wouldn't be liked by Regulus Black but wouldn't admit such a thing out loud. "Who wouldn't like _me_?" he asked and Hermione laughed.

oOoOoOo

Draco and Hermione met Harry halfway to Hagrid's hut and the three walked down through the pumpkin patch with Leo perched on Hermione's arm. They'd brought along Crookshanks and Harry's owl, Eulen, to see how the spell would affect regular animals and magical creatures like kneazles, just to have all their bases covered.

Crookshanks jumped into the pumpkin patch, moving between the small vines and leaping from one large vegetable to the next, ducking out of the way when Buckbeak playfully snapped at Crook's tail before returning his attention to the pile of dead ferrets at his large feet. Harry chuckled as they stepped into the patch, closing the gate behind him. "Don't get too close, Malfoy."

Draco glared at him, not paying attention to his position at Hermione's side when Leo leaned forward and bit his elbow. He growled at the bird and then looked stubbornly at the black-haired wizard before walking up to the hippogriff, giving a slight bow of the head and receiving one in return. He smirked as he pet the feathers above the large beak and turned his focus on Harry who had his mouth open in shock at the display.

"Not so special now, are you?" Draco asked in a sing-song voice as he walked past Harry to make his way up the porch, opening the door for Hermione who was rolling her eyes at the display.

Harry huffed a little and looked over his shoulder at the hippogriff as though the beast had betrayed him by being friendly with anyone else.

Inside the hut, everyone crowded together uncomfortably. Crookshanks hissed at Eulen and Leo, who flapped his black wings in the cat's face in reply, and Hermione released her owl to fly up to the rafters before Crookshanks had a chance to retaliate. "It's too cramped in here," she said and then looked at her uncle. "When you shift it'll be worse," she added, knowing that Padfoot was far too big for this small hut.

"I'll step outside," Draco said and kissed Hermione's forehead, whispering, "Good luck."

"Can't believe it m'self," Hagrid muttered. "Regulus Black, here at Hogwarts, all this year," he shook his large head in shock. "Where d'ya think he was b'fore ya got 'im, Sirius?"

Sirius shrugged. "Who knows? The merchant at the shop said that all of this owls were rescues. Old familiars with broken bonds or ones that used to belong to the post but had been injured at one point or another. Some were found or captured, others from breeders. There's not really a way to trace it." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose we'll have to ask him when this is over, won't we?"

Remus patted Sirius on the shoulder to give him the go ahead and within a split second, the tall wizard was replaced by the large black dog. "Now," Remus said, looking at Harry and Hermione. "The spell is _Prima Forma_, and you flick your wand like this," he said, showing them the motion. "If it works, your wands should emit a bright blue light which will cover not only Leo, but will likely light up the entire hut."

"Will people see?" Hermione asked. "Through the windows, I mean?"

Remus nodded. "It's possible. If the spell is strong enough. But you shouldn't worry. Most of the other students are in class and . . ." he turned and looked at Harry. "You brought the Map?"

Harry nodded and removed the parchment, muttering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," under his breath and watched as it opened. "McGonagall is in her office, Filch is in the dungeons and all the other professors are in class. Snape too," he added. It was an unspoken agreement between everyone that Severus be left out of the plan considering every one of them only believed it themselves about thirty percent or so and they didn't want the Potions Master to tell them they were all idiots for even suggesting such a ridiculous thing.

Hermione looked over at the Map almost wishing that it would suddenly say Regulus's name in the place where Leo was perched. But it wasn't there. All she saw was herself, Harry, Hagrid, Remus, and Sirius, whose name vanished from the Map. She looked up to watch the large black dog pad over to the corner of the room and sniff at Fang, who was sleeping in his bed. "Sirius?" she said and Padfoot looked up at the sound of the wizard's name and blinked at Hermione. She looked back at the Map and smiled when she saw Sirius's name reappear.

"Well, we were right about the Map," she said thoughtfully, noting that Draco's name appeared outside of Hagrid's hut, moving back and forth in front of the door. She smiled, seeing the little dot pacing back and forth, a sense of warmth filling her knowing that he was so worried on her behalf. "Let's do this," she said. "Leo," she called to the bird, whistling a little and smiled when he flapped his grey and black wings and flew down to sit on the round table in front of them, tilting his head to the side to look up at her. "Ready?"

Harry swallowed and nodded, raising his wand up as Remus did the same and said, "On the count of three."

"One," Harry muttered.

"Two," Remus said.

"Three," Hermione whispered. "_Prima Forma!_"

Blue light burst from their three wands, all directed at the little black and grey owl who flinched at the light but seemed otherwise unharmed as the light enveloped him. The spell, so powerful, enveloped the entire hut, covering each person, Crookshanks, Eulen, Fang, and Padfoot as well before the blue light, so powerful that it was, burst from the windows and beneath the front door, nearly blinding them all in the process.

When it finally faded, Hermione's hands were shaking as she blinked to regain her vision, eyes staring ahead at the little black owl in front of her, feeling a great disappointment sink into her stomach. "Did it not . . ." she tried to say but then felt a hand on her shoulder and turned, tears in her eyes to see Sirius — forced back into human form — standing behind her, looking just as grief stricken as she felt.

She sniffled and turned, falling into her uncle's arms, feeling hopeless and emotionally fatigued and eager to crawl back to the castle in defeat, until a loud shout pulled her from her thoughts and sent panicked adrenaline pounding through her veins.

"Help!" Draco screamed from beyond the door and everyone jumped at the sound.

Remus, nearest the door, threw it open, his wand already raised, the others quickly behind him; all conditioned by war to be on the defence. Draco was leaning up against Hagrid's hut, silver eyes as wide as they could possibly be, shaking as he stared ahead of him.

Sirius fell to the ground, the sound of his knees hitting the wooden porch echoed in the doorway where Hermione stood next to Harry, mouth open at the sight before her.

She sucked in a breath and gripped Harry's arm tightly.

Hagrid towered over them all, gaping into the pumpkin patch. "Beaky?" he muttered in shock.

There, in the corner, situated between large pumpkins and twisting vines, hovering above a pile of dead ferrets, stood Regulus Black.

* * *

**A/N**: ;)


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I am so totally blown away by the response to the last chapter. I worried and stressed over it like you couldn't imagine. I didn't want anyone to figure it out ahead of time, hence the red herring Leo the owl, and in the end only 3 people guessed Buckbeak before the reveal. I'm immensely glad that the majority of you readers loved the idea. I even had a Skype chat with **Courbeau** where I had her read the chapter for the first time out loud so I could watch her reaction and it was fucking priceless! I advise ALL fanfic authors to do something like that at some point. Total highlight of my week.

No Q&amp;A this week because if there were any actual questions that needed to be answered, they were likely lost in a sea of caps locked screaming LOL. If you still have questions after this chapter, let me know and I'll answer them in Wednesday's update.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirty-Three

_Historia_

* * *

**1973**

Regulus stared at his brother curiously, wondering if Sirius genuinely thought he was smart enough to get away with what he was attempting. Mandrake leaves had a very specific scent. Regulus knew because Severus had been messing around with them in his potions experiments in the common room and had stunk up the place to the point where Slughorn had to come in and cast a variety of spells that would get rid of the stench. Sirius's breath _stunk _of Mandrake leaves.

"Why so quiet?" he asked his big brother.

Sirius shrugged and then held out a small portable chalkboard, scribbled something down on it with a white piece of chalk that looked like it was barely a stub at this point.

_Silencing Spell_, Sirius wrote, turning the board around to face Regulus.

Regulus raised a brow. _Seriously?_ He rolled his eyes and played along. "Do you want me to remove it?" he asked, reaching for his wand. Sirius immediately shook his head and stepped away from Regulus as though he were prepared to deflect the counter-curse to his silent problem. "So you're content to just be quiet for now? That's not very like you," Regulus said with a smirk and actually laughed when Sirius growled at him before sauntering away.

"What's up with your brother?" Marlene asked as she approached him. "He and his friends have been acting strange lately."

"How long?" Regulus asked.

"Couple weeks now," she said. "James hasn't once said anything inappropriate to Lily, and Peter's normally pretty quiet, but even your brother is acting strangely. James says they've taken a vow of silence in protest, but they won't say for what. Remus is the only one that's said a word."

He smirked knowingly. "Give it another week or so and they'll be back to their loud, obnoxious selves."

oOoOoOo

**1974**

"Seriously?" Regulus muttered, watching as James Potter followed Evans out of the library, leaving behind his book bag which had fallen over in his pathetic attempt to catch up with the witch before she had a chance to escape. Inside were three textbooks, appropriate for Potter's year, and two other books. Regulus picked them up and rolled his eyes. _Your Inner Animagus _and _Animagi, a Meditative Study_. "You three are morons," he said firmly and then, because if idiots like his brother and Potter — and gods, Pettigrew — could do it . . . Regulus slipped both books into his own bag and left the library with a smug grin.

oOoOoOo

**1977**

He watched quietly from the rooftop of the West Tower, staring as the black dog that crept out from beneath the Whomping Willow looked back, tail wagging rapidly as the werewolf emerged behind him, followed by a stag carrying a small rat on one of its antlers. The hippogriff snorted, carefully digging his talons into the shingles below his feet to gather purchase, the hooves of his back legs still weren't used to the angle he was perched at.

Regulus watched his brother and his friends wander off into the Forbidden Forest, looking oddly happy; if animals could look happy. It left a pain in his chest and he sighed, running his tongue against the inside of his beak, adjusting to the strange sensation of it as he tried to distract himself from the gaping hole that missing Sirius left inside of him. He looked down, orange eyes glancing at his front left leg which was covered in black and white feathers, hiding the dark mark there. He'd only gotten a proper look at himself once in the reflection of the Black Lake. Large wings and an impressive stance, his body covered in white and grey feathers, with a smattering of soft black ones through his wings and the inside of his left leg.

He thought about telling Severus what he'd done, but then he'd want to know why. Why had Regulus spent all the effort to become an Animagus? Despite everything they'd gone through and all the secrets they'd shared, he felt like he needed something for himself. Something that was just his. Of course he'd told Marlene and she'd laughed and told him he was crazy and then he promised he'd take her flying.

And flying was miraculous.

It felt like freedom to have the wind flow through his wings as he soared over the trees above the Forbidden Forest, staring down at the _actual _hippogriffs that Hagrid had corralled in a paddock there near the edge.

He'd gone to them the third time he'd shifted into his Animagus form, curious to see how the real things adjusted to his presence. It was almost as though they'd not even noticed, which was damn helpful when Hagrid had come out to feed the herd, curiously looking him over and then counting to himself and muttering, "Huh . . . could've sworn there was only twelve of yeh. Guess yer my lucky thirteen then, aye . . . Buckbeak? That's a good name fer yeh, I think," he said and then scratched Regulus under the chin.

oOoOoOo

**May 1979**

His eyes turned toward the island to see that Kreacher was gone, as ordered.

And then the weight of his enemies was too heavy. Their strength too great to fight against. As the cold water enveloped him once more and stole the breath from his lungs, Regulus closed his eyes and tried to find a good thought to cling to. Something to fill him up and take away the fear. Something strong enough that could summon a Patronus if he knew how. A good memory. A good thought.

All he could think of was her. A babe in Marlene's arms wrapped in fleece.

Something worth dying for.

_No._ Regulus eyes opened. _Something worth _living _for!_

The inferi clawed and tugged and weighed him down, pulling frantically at his arms and legs, wrapping their hands around his throat, tearing at his clothes and skin. He clenched his teeth tight and forced himself to fight through the remaining effects of the potion he'd poisoned himself with, channeling his magic into one last force of pure power. His arms that were being pulled down by the dead hands that gripped him, shifted into the long powerful legs and the talons at the end fought back, scratching and stabbing and pushing against his attackers. His back legs kicked and thrashed and he felt bones break as his hooves pushed against ribs and legs from behind.

When his wings sprouted from his back, the remaining inferi were flung away from him in a great push of water that created a forceful wave against the island above. Regulus kicked at the bottom of the lake, using the momentum to break the surface of the water, wings pounding against the air as he carried himself up and out of the cave and then far, far away.

Returning to Hogwarts was impossible. It wasn't safe. Not for him, not for Marlene and the baby. So he followed through with his failsafe plan and soared as high as he possibly could, hidden behind storm clouds as he made his way to Cokeworth, grateful for the cover of night. He descended, losing the strength to hold his form and crashed on the grass in front of Spinner's End, human once more, coughing and choking on the water that still lingered in his — suddenly too small — lungs.

He managed to drag himself to the porch before he fell unconscious to the sound of Severus's voice demanding, "What have you done?!" and the feel of a Disillusionment Charm washing over his body.

oOoOoOo

**September 1980**

"Reggie! Are you insane?" Marlene hissed, eyes wide as she stood on the back porch of Iliad Cottage, watching her one-year-old daughter cling to the feathers of her husband's neck as he trotted around the yard like a pony, making chirping noises as Hermione giggled. Marlene chuckled as Hermione let out a loud squeal of joy, and then forced herself to purse her lips and narrow her eyes at Regulus as he walked over, allowing her to remove Hermione from his neck.

"Papa!" Hermione said, still laughing and Regulus winced a little when she tore feathers from his skin.

He shifted back into his human form and kissed Marlene on the cheek before snatching Hermione back into his arms, frowning a little at the grey feathers in her tiny fists. "Come on then," he said, ignoring the tsking sound coming from behind him. "It's not like I took her _flying_, Marley," he said with a small chuckle, adding a quiet "yet" under his breath. "Plus I put a Sticking Charm on her nappy so only you or I could take her off. Time for bed, little one."

Marlene only smiled and rolled her eyes as Hermione clung to Regulus's hair the same way she held onto his feathers. "I'm headed out for the Order meeting," Marlene called after him. "And Severus is going to stop by afterwards for dinner and you are _not _to let him drink away his misery again," she said firmly.

Regulus scoffed. "Potter's kid is only two months old, give the guy a break."

"When this war is over, we're going to find him a witch," Marlene said and then rushed over to kiss her husband and daughter before Disapparating away.

"All right, princess," Regulus said, pulling the feathers out of Hermione's hands and shifting her from one arm to the other. "_Babbity Rabbity_ or _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot_ tonight?" he asked as he reached for a storybook, pulling it open and letting the pages fall to either side on their own.

"Dat," Hermione said, smacking her hand against the open pages of the book.

"No sweetheart," he said, shaking his head. "You're a little too young for that story. I'll tell you about _The Three Brothers_ when you're bigger." He took the grey feathers he'd snatched from her hands and slipped them against the spine of the book before flipping the pages.

oOoOoOo

**October 31st, 1981**

It happened too fast. He'd gone straight to Sirius's flat, Disillusioned and hidden away, waiting for any signs of life. Death Eaters eventually came knocking, Dolohov and Macnair, and Regulus fought the urge to kill them both on the spot but knew that if they didn't show up where they were supposed to, it would look suspicious and that would only make the plan harder to complete.

The pair eventually broke through Sirius's wards and Regulus slipped in behind them, shocked to see that Sirius wasn't there.

"Gone already," Dolohov whispered. "Do you think they went early?" he asked.

Macnair shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe," he growled.

"Don't pout," Dolohov scolded the man.

"Don't see what the big deal is. She's a pretty thing and I only wanted a taste. Not like the Dark Lord is going to want her."

Dolohov scowled. "She's a Mudblood. I can't see how you'd sully yourself with that lot. Besides, you know fully well that the Dark Lord made a promise to Snape. If she lives, which isn't likely, the half-blood brat gets to play with her first. Now hurry. We need to track down the filthy blood-traitor before he finds out where Pettigrew is. He'll be a nightmare to stop if we don't get to him first."

Regulus blinked. _Pettigrew?_

"I'm not scared of Black," Macnair spat. "He's just the same as his brother. All talk and no play."

Dolohov turned and glared at his fellow Death Eater. "I don't care what your problem with Regulus was, you'll hold your tongue. And gods help you if you say anything like that in front of Lucius or Snape. The men held him as a brother."

"Still suspicious if you ask me," Macnair mumbled as the pair left the flat.

_Fuck! Where was Sirius? And what did Pettigrew have to do with_ . . . Regulus began to think but then his mind was cut off as his Dark Mark burned and flared and pain shot through his arm like never before and then, just like that, it was gone. He looked up and noted that Dolohov and Macnair had Disapparated when they'd been called. To Godric's Hollow most likely.

He thought to send word to Severus but knew it might be premature. He needed to find Sirius and end this mess.

It was chaos. Absolute chaos. People were celebrating as word spread, rumours that the Dark Lord had been killed only hours after his supposed death. Regulus didn't want to hold his breath on that one. He searched and searched and lost track of the hour and what day it was. It wasn't until he saw Aurors drag a screaming Igor Karkaroff who was pleading for mercy, screaming, "It's fading! It's fading!" that Regulus even thought to look down at his left forearm to notice that the mark was, indeed, lighter than ever before.

_Dead_. The Dark Lord was dead. He felt a weight lifted from his shoulders and struggled not to cry out in joy and relief. He wanted to celebrate. Celebrate, that is until he'd overheard two Aurors whispering.

"Black? Are you certain?"

"I was there myself. He confessed, as far as I could tell."

"His best friends."

"They always were a little wrong in the head, that whole family."

"Is he in with the others?"

"No, Fudge and Crouch had him shipped right straight to Azkaban. Not even a trial."

"Who needs one? You said he confessed. Who would demand a trial on his behalf? The whole world knows he was disowned by his own family. The only thing to be decided now is life in prison or Dementor's Kiss."

Regulus listened in long enough to get the most of the story. They suspected Sirius had betrayed the Potters and in a fury had gone after Pettigrew who had likely seen Sirius's betrayal or done something else to earn his wrath. Pettigrew and a number of Muggles were dead, murdered by Sirius. _Supposedly_. Regulus shook his head. There was no way. Sirius loved James Potter more than he loved his own brother, something Regulus had made peace with years ago, but still . . . facts were facts.

No one to demand a trial indeed? He closed his eyes and Disapparated away, reappearing on the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, swallowing his fear and his pride and the secrets he'd been keeping for too many years, and opened the door.

At the sight of her child, her supposedly _dead _child, Walburga Black dropped her glass of wine — celebratory wine, as she'd just been informed that her eldest son would be living out the rest of his life behind bars, surrounded by Dementors. The expensive glass shattered on the floor and Regulus was surprised when Kreacher didn't appear to clean it up.

"Where's the elf?" he asked.

Walburga stared at him, eyes wide looking panicked. "He . . . I sent him to your . . . to Cygnus's home. Bella's been arrested and . . . how are you . . . is it _really _you?" she asked, looking as though she wanted to cry. "My Regulus? My boy? My only son?"

"Not _only_," Regulus said, pulling away from her hands as they moved to cup his face. "Sirius is alive and innocent and he's been sent to Azkaban and we need to do something about it. They're not even giving him a trial mother. You need to say something."

Walburga scowled. "How are you alive? I was told . . . and the tapestry said you were dead! Kreacher showed up one night, sobbing hysterically and saying that . . . that you'd . . ." and at his stony expression, her eyes went cold. "_You_ charmed it. How?"

"Blood Magic."

"Why?!"

"I have . . . my reasons. I was protecting my family."

She snarled, "We didn't need protection! We needed our heir!"

"I didn't mean _you_!" Regulus snapped. "I meant Sirius and _my _family. My wife and daughter!"

Her face fell. "You . . . a wife and . . . you have a _child_? A girl . . . that's disappointing but . . . who is your wife? Why all these secrets? She's not a Mudblood is she?!" she asked, recoiling in horror, her disgust completely masking over the brief expression of joy that had been there at the realisation that her son was, in fact, alive.

He stepped forward and took her by the shoulders. "It doesn't matter. If she had been it wouldn't matter because_ I_ am the heir of this House and with father dead I am the _Head _of this House. I've returned home to rectify the mistakes I have made as well as the ones _you've _made. You're coming with me to the Ministry of Magic where I will claim my seat and demand that my brother be given a fucking trial over these asinine accusations!" He released her and made to move into the other room, likely to search for the documents necessary to get things moving.

"You will do no such thing! You have no brother!" Walburga screeched.

Regulus spun on his mother, looking crazed. "Sirius Orion Black the third, firstborn son of Orion and Walburga and heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black! Brother of Regulus Arcturus and uncle to Hermione Astra! My brother!" he yelled, pounding his fist against his chest. "His parents abandoned him and his friends are dead and he has no one else to speak for him, but I will _not _leave him to rot in Azkaban!"

He stormed through the house and Walburga chased after him, frantic and furious and screaming until her throat was raw, begging him to see reason. Regulus stopped listening at some point. She was a crazy old bint and he'd thought her basically harmless, at least to him. But when he was busy looking in his father's study for the paperwork he knew he would need to show at both the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts when he withdrew money to hire the best solicitor that money could buy, she'd aimed her wand and silently disarmed him.

Holding the bit of wood in her grip, Walburga glared at her son. "Your brother ruined the reputation of this family and then you _died _and I'll not have your name destroyed as well by letting the world know you're alive only to bury us by saving _him_!" she howled. "I would rather let you die all over again. See the House of my father burn with the death of my son than see him ruin everything it stands for."

He stared at his wand and then narrowed his eyes at his mother. "You think you can stop me? I swear to Merlin, woman, I will fly to Azkaban myself and kick the fucking doors down and pull him out with my bare hands, and if you think I need a wand to do that, you're severely mistaken." His stare was menacing and he smiled a little when he saw her bottom lip quiver in fear of him.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts before whispering, "There are no brooms in this house. No boys left to fly them."

He grinned smugly. "Don't need a broom."

She shook with rage and, before he had a chance to stop her, she snapped his wand in half.

Regulus, enraged by the action, shifted instantly and let the witch come face to face with an incensed hippogriff who reared up on his hind legs, let out a deafening roar, and made to attack. She screamed in terror and aimed her own wand and hit him with something, he wasn't sure what, but it hurt like mad and slowed his movements and suddenly he fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

Walburga circled his body and then aimed her wand again, whispering a curse under her breath and Regulus felt a sickening chill flush over his skin and everything felt tight and claustrophobic. He tried to shift back to ask her what she'd done, but it was obvious when nothing happened.

Stuck. Stuck. _Stuck_.

"Like I said . . ." Walburga whispered. "I would rather let you die all over again." Another light flew out of her wand and the room went black.

oOoOoOo

When Regulus opened his orange eyes and blinked away the blurry vision, wincing as pain wracked his body, he looked around to see himself surrounded by bars, his legs and feet cuffed in iron and his wings tied down by rope. He tried to fight, tried to free himself, but all he was met with was resistance.

"Woah there, boy," a man said as he approached. "Calm down. We'll be there soon." He stepped close to the cage, and Regulus growled. The man laughed and pulled out a wand. "Careful there. I'd prefer you be conscious when the boat docks," — _Boat?_ — "But I've got no problem selling you off as meat instead of livestock. I'll get less money but less trouble as well. You get me?"

The boat docked and Regulus was pulled off in chains to stand with a herd of hippogriff, a baby Peruvian Vipertooth, and three thestrals. When taken to the black market, wherever they were, Regulus struggled and fought to break free which only caused him to expend unnecessary energy and end up being sold into an illegal fighting ring instead of the farm where eight of the other nine hippogriff went.

oOoOoOo

**January 1988**

Six years.

It had taken him six years to get free.

Six years of falling in and out of his Animagus conscious, retreating behind it and letting the animal take over. It was easier when the animal took over. Easier to eat, easier to fight, easier to kill. It was only when he was locked away in the pens, chained up like the beast that he was, that he remembered he was really a man. Really a man who'd killed before.

It didn't take much effort to bite the throat out of a careless new caretaker.

First day on the job and he'd been told not to get too close to the wild one — "Watch yerself around the grey. Fucker's a menace," — but he'd been careless and took Regulus's soft chirping to be a gentle coo instead of the warning that it was. He approached Regulus without fear, without _respect_.

With the taste of the caretaker's blood still in his mouth, he kicked as hard as he could, breaking the chain around his back leg, and walked out the open door. As he stepped over the body of the caretaker, he thought to himself, _you should have bowed, arsehole_.

He flew and flew and flew until his wings ached and his muscles cried out in agony. He made it to the outskirts of Iliad Cottage, not surprised at all to find it empty. He and Severus had a plan, after all, and if his friend was able to keep his word, Hermione would be safe. Nestled somewhere in the arms of some Muggle family somewhere, without any idea that she was a witch.

Not knowing where else to go, he headed north, flying under the dark of night and hidden behind clouds until he reached Hogwarts. Landing in the Forbidden Forest, he joined the old familiar herd and allowed Hagrid to feed him extra, inwardly smiling at the gentle touch of the half-giant who actually cried at the sight of him.

"Ye came back!" he shouted joyfully. "Thought I'd lost yeh forever, I did."

oOoOoOo

**September 2nd, 1993**

He struggled to stay conscious of the things that happened around him. Few things were able to bring him out of the Animagus state. Watching the first years come across the lake two years earlier had been a good moment. He'd slipped out of the small paddock Hagrid kept the herd in and walked to the edge of the Black Lake where he watched as the tiny children crawled out of the boats. He'd lost track of the years some time back, but Hagrid had come to tell the thestrals and the unicorns and the hippogriffs all about how he'd been reunited with Harry Potter and taken the boy to Diagon Alley. Regulus knew that Harry and his Hermione were the same age.

Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts.

That meant Hermione was as well.

It took him some time to figure out which one she was. Severus had placed a decent glamour on the girl, but there was no way he'd be able to ignore the massive bushy curls on her head, even if they were the wrong colour. _She looks like Marley_, he thought to himself and let the decade old grief in his chest linger a little before he relaxed against it, absorbing the familiar pain.

It was hard to stay conscious much after that. Knowing that she was safe was enough. There were mumblings over the years. A unicorn had been killed, and Regulus had tried to think like a human would but the instinct to stick with the herd won out in the end and he remained oblivious to the students in the Forbidden Forest, serving detention. The following year Hagrid was gone for a time and he'd overheard the centaurs mumbling about spiders infiltrating the forest in an attempt to flee something in the castle.

It wasn't until that very morning that he blinked out of his Animagus conscious to see the group of students being led toward the herd. He spotted Hermione immediately, Regulus trotted forward remembering how she used to climb on his back and grip onto his feathers so tightly.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at the herd as he spoke to the gathered students. "Beau'iful, aren' they? Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," Hagrid said. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Regulus was watching her, brown eyes — not grey like they should be — staring at Hagrid with rapt attention. Studious and attentive and staring at the herd with nervous excitement. He wondered if she knew. If she'd recognise . . . _no_ . . . no Severus would have Obliviated her. She'd already been two and far too smart for her own good. She would have said something to the Muggles or . . . _no_ . . . she wouldn't remember him.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. Right — who wants ter go first?"

"I'll do it."

"Good man, Harry!" Hagrid roared. "Right then — let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

Regulus looked up, recognising the name Hagrid called him, and watched carefully as a black-haired boy slowly approached. Regulus shook out his feathers as Hagrid removed the leather collar from around his neck.

"Easy, now, Harry," Hagrid said quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink. . . . Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much."

_Harry._ Regulus stared at the boy, searching, searching, search — _there it is . . . the scar_ — just like he'd heard about. The boy bowed before him and Regulus swallowed, his eyes locked on the scar thinking to himself that this boy, _just a boy_, had killed the Dark Lord. And he was grateful, so very fucking grateful. _Yes_, he thought. _I'll bow my head to Harry Potter._

A quick fly around the paddock and Regulus was dumping Harry Potter back on the ground, hoping that Hagrid would ask the little Muggle-born girl to come up next. _Hermione_, Regulus thought as he stared at her only to watch as the half-giant directed her toward one of the chestnut-coloured hippogriffs instead.

He wasn't paying much attention when three boys walked over to him. Regulus bowed his head instinctively, desperate to get this over with so he could maybe walk over and see his daughter face to face. He didn't even mind it when the boys started patting at his beak and feathers.

"This is very easy," one boy drawled. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it. . . . I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you? Are you, you great ugly brute?"

_Ugly?_ Regulus turned and glared down at the insulting boy and his orange eyes widened recognising the white-blonde hair and Slytherin robes. _Malfoy_. Regulus let out a low, menacing growl and, while the boy was still smirking, a smug look that was far too reminiscent of Lucius, Regulus kicked up on his back legs and came down on the boy, talons extended, slashing through the thick robes and cutting the boy's arm with vicious delight.

oOoOoOo

**March 1999**

The boy stared at him.

Older now, less smug than he'd been as a child when Regulus had joyfully knocked him to the ground. Much had happened to Draco Malfoy in those few years. Much had happened to them all.

Hermione, for instance, had black hair and looked like his daughter again. Regulus wasn't sure what had happened. He'd been locked away in the attic of Grimmauld Place and Sirius hadn't said anything, at least not to him. It didn't matter though. Brown hair, black hair; she was Hermione.

He'd thought about kicking at the boy again when Hermione had brought him to the pumpkin patch a few months earlier, but she had looked at him with pleading eyes . . . pleading for him to behave and not be the vicious beast that the Malfoy boy thought him to be. And . . . well . . . it wasn't as though he was able to give his daughter anything else.

So he'd let them ride and the three had gone flying out over the lake and Regulus let himself be happy because she was flying with him again. The first time had been horrible and she'd screamed — afraid of heights; he almost thought it funny — and then he'd been reunited with Sirius and gone from Hogwarts and from her. But . . . then they'd gone flying and he almost didn't care that she was wrapped around Draco Malfoy because she'd looked so fucking happy and he could hear them. Hear the boy call Hermione, "Love," and mean it. _Really _mean it.

"_There I am,"_ the boy had said and Regulus looked up, spotting the dragon constellation in the sky, rolling his eyes a bit at the declaration.

"_Don't get too smug there, dragon boy,"_ Hermione had said and Regulus inwardly grinned with pride. _"My father named me after every star in the sky."_

_My father_. He swallowed down hard and, when they eventually landed, he pressed his face into the palm of her hand and breathed heavy. She knew. She _knew _him. Not that he was the great beast in front of her, but she knew that Regulus Black was her father. It filled him with joy.

Regulus had been too preoccupied with breakfast, lost behind the Animagus consciousness, and hadn't noticed the blue light coming out from beneath Hagrid's door until it had hit him. It didn't hurt, but he felt a distinctive tug on his skin that was itchy and unfamiliar . . . or at least . . . distant, as though he'd forgotten how it was supposed to feel after all these years.

And then his weight had shifted and his limbs didn't feel so heavy. He tried to swish his tail in irritation at the feeling, but there was no tail to swish.

"Beaky?" Hagrid said.

Regulus looked up at the sound of his other name, almost tumbling forward, unused to the difference in weight between his back legs and his front . . . _hands?_ He looked down. _Hands_. He had _hands_! He inhaled sharply and glanced upwards at the group in front of him. Sirius. Sirius who looked broken and shocked and . . . was he smiling? Regulus opened his mouth to call out to his brother but then stopped, his throat was raw and he wondered if he even knew how to speak after all these years.

_No, of course I can speak_, he silently scolded himself and then searched out for her.

For his . . .

"Hermione," he said, his voice raw and gravelly and deeper than he had remembered the last time he'd spoken, seventeen years earlier.


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: I got a good amount of writing done yesterday for this story, so I thought I would post this chapter early. From this point on as long as Fluffpanda and I are on top of things, I'm thinking a chapter a day will be happening.

Q&amp;As - **Djomar**, Remus, Hermione, and Harry were the ones to reverse the spell, it was so powerful that it broke through Hagrid's hut and caught Buckbeak/Regulus on the other side. No one knew that Buckbeak was Regulus, it was purely accidental that he got caught in the spell.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirty-Four

_Coniungentur_

* * *

**March 1999**

"_Hermione._"

She stared at the man, the man that was a hippogriff not two minutes earlier, her mouth hanging open in shock and her vision blurring with tears. He was . . . gods . . . he looked just like Sirius. But not like how Sirius looked _now_, but when Sirius . . . she was reminded of the Shrieking Shack, the first time she'd met her uncle. Regulus wasn't starved or gaunt the way his brother had been after escaping prison. Nor was he sickly with matted hair. His hair, in fact, much like Buckbeak's feathers, was clean and soft-looking, despite the length, reaching the middle of his back. Black, like hers, like Sirius's; not a streak of grey. Regulus appeared overall healthy though perhaps a bit uncoordinated and confused, as though he'd been Confunded.

He said her name again, his eyes not moving from hers and she couldn't help but instinctively reach out for Harry, her rock, gripping his arm as tight as she could because he had been her life raft for so many years already and she was begging him silently to keep her afloat. Draco, whose hand had slipped into her own, would understand.

Regulus moved to stand and, weak on human legs, he collapsed back to the ground and let out a deep growl of frustration that was much more beast than man. Angrily, he snatched a ferret carcass near his feet and threw it across the pumpkin patch in frustration. Hagrid, clearly torn between how to process what had just happened, moved to assist the man, but Remus held an arm out to stop him and, instead, helped Sirius to his feet.

Despite Regulus looking a bit weary and slightly deranged, eyes flickering back and forth like a caged animal ready to strike at the first attack, Sirius moved quickly toward him until he saw Regulus's body stiffen at the sudden movement. Sirius paused, remembering himself and his personal understanding of Animagi, and stopped in his tracks to bow his head. There was a long moment of utter silence where the two brothers stared at one another hesitantly before eventually, Regulus nodded back.

Sirius fell to the ground in front of his brother and looked him over, searching for injuries or scars or perhaps just hints and clues that this had really just happened because it was too painful to think he'd have to go back, go back and grieve all over again. "Reg," Sirius whispered.

"I didn't know," Regulus said, his voice cracking slightly, suddenly looking all of seventeen once again, the last time Sirius had seen him, instead of the grown man he was now. "I didn't know about Pettigrew," he swore, "I swear I didn't know."

Sirius pulled Regulus into his arms immediately and clung to him like he'd never let go. "It's okay," he promised, saying, "Everything's going to be fine now," and he kissed the top of his brother's head as though they were ten and eleven all over again and Sirius was leaving for Hogwarts for the first time, reassuring his brother that nothing would change.

"Remus," Hermione whispered and everyone turned, almost shocked that she was speaking or that anything outside of the reunited Black brothers was even happening. "We need Professor McGonagall to know about what's happened. He can't leave Hogwarts . . . for a number of reasons but mostly for his own safety and she needs to know that the school grounds will be housing him," she turned and looked at Hagrid. "Can he stay here, with you? Anything inside the school will be too crowded and he can't be left alone and —"

"Hermione," Sirius said, trying to catch her attention, having finally pulled away from his brother who was back to staring at the witch with the eyes of a broken man.

"— his Animagus form has already developed a deep trust with you, Hagrid. Harry, you need to go with Remus and ask Professor McGonagall to use her Floo so you can contact Kingsley. R-Regulus's name has been cleared but that was posthumously and we need to make certain that there won't be any repercussions when it eventually gets out that he's alive. Get ahead of this thing before someone, gods forbid _Skeeter_, finds out."

"'Mione," Harry said and pulled her back to him, his green eyes wide and expressive and that expression was worry.

Hermione looked away from him almost instantly in discomfort. "I . . . Winston!" she called, wiping the backs of her hands against her eyes as the tears began to streak down her cheeks and pulled out of Harry's grip. When the little house-elf appeared, Hermione cleared her throat. "Would you be so kind as to go to the kitchen and get some broth?"

"Broth?" Harry questioned.

Hermione nodded. "Being in an Animagi form long term isn't healthy for humans. He's been well . . . well fed," she said with a slight blush, looking up at Hagrid who was still gaping at Regulus with a nervous glance, as though he didn't know whether or not to approach the man who'd — as of several minutes ago — been one of his favourite pets. "Unfortunately, he'll need to readjust to human food before he gets sick . . . but it needs to start immediately."

Winston was staring at the Black brothers, her big eyes blinking curiously. "Mistress is that . . . is that Mistress's —"

"Please be discreet, Winston," Hermione pleaded, not answering the little elf's question. Winston frowned but then nodded her large head, ears flapping as she did, and then disapparated away with a _pop_! "I . . . he'll need Vitamix Potion and some Calming Draught and if someone could contact Madam Pomfrey and —"

"Granger," Draco whispered.

"I need to . . ." she said, voice breaking. She cleared her throat and cast one glance back at Regulus before her hands started shaking and her feet carried her away, back toward the castle.

Draco stood immediately. "I'll go after her," he said only to be met with a low, instinctive growl coming from Regulus. "Or I'll stay right where I am," he corrected.

"Go with Remus and Harry, while they talk to McGonagall, you get Madam Pomfrey," Sirius said to the boy, looking at Hermione's quickly retreating form. "She'll come around," he whispered to Regulus. "It's . . . a shock."

Regulus stiffly nodded. "What happened?" he said. "She wasn't supposed to know. She was supposed to be hidden for . . . for her own safety. How did she find out?"

Everyone stayed quiet and all eyes turned and looked at Hagrid, the half-giant never one to be able to keep a secret properly. He caught the cue from them all and pressed his lips tightly together.

"In time," Sirius said, keeping his expression as impassive as possible, casting a glance up at Harry, warning him with a look not to reveal anything. Not yet. "We'll tell you everything in time. Now c'mon. Let's get you inside while we wait."

oOoOoOo

Hermione ran.

She ran to the castle and, once inside, kept running.

She'd been prepared. She had thought she'd been prepared. Prepared to see him, prepared for Harry and Draco to be right and they _had _been right! But seeing him . . . it reminded her. Reminded her that her Muggle parents were gone and that her biological mother was most certainly dead and there was no bringing her back as well, but there he was . . . Regulus Black . . . and the first word he spoke after seventeen years was her name.

Her.

He _knew _her.

And she knew him . . . but not really.

Shaking, she found her feet taking her down through the dungeons, pushing open the door to the Potions classroom as though her body were two steps ahead of her mind. She stood in the doorway, ashen and shaking and nearing tears, staring ahead through the classroom of small students and simmering cauldrons, and her gaze connected with Severus who took in her appearance and stood.

"Class dismissed," he said immediately. "Turn off your fires and vanish the contents of your potions immediately and then leave."

Hermione hovered in the doorway, shaking, as each of the younger years — she wasn't even sure which years or Houses — worriedly whispered to one another about what could have possibly upset Hermione Granger, war heroine, before bursting into giggles and triumphant shouts that they didn't have to finish Potions for the day. When the last student left the room, Hermione shut the door behind her and flew into Severus's arms, very much against his will, and sobbed into his black robes.

The Potions Master flinched at first, out of habit, before he swallowed down his own discomfort and carefully put an arm around the girl. "What's happened?" he asked her. "Did Draco —"

She shook her head. "He's alive."

Severus rose a brow. "Well, I should hope so. I've made multiple vows to protect that stupid boy and if he'd gone and gotten himself killed, I would think I would be aware of it."

She pulled away from her godfather and looked up into his eyes, her own were red and swollen. "He . . . Regulus is alive."

Severus pursed his lips and narrowed his gaze. "What kind of ridiculousness has led you to think —"

"He's outside right n-now . . . in . . . at Hagrid's . . . h-he . . . he's alive. I saw him. He said m-my name."

oOoOoOo

Sirius helped Regulus inside Hagrid's hut, practically carrying his little brother against his will, going so far as to lift the man onto the bed where he could lay back and rest as Sirius knelt by the side, staring into his face with such a variety of emotions it was hard to linger on just one. Hagrid attempted to offer food before remembering Hermione's instructions and then, looking awkward in his own home, offered the brothers a moment alone.

"Reggie . . ."

"Don't. It's . . . it's all in the past."

Sirius shook his head. "I was awful to you. I hexed you —"

"I provoked you on purpose."

"— I thought you were a Death Eater —"

"I _was_."

"I should have protected you."

Regulus sighed and reached out, putting a hand on Sirius's shoulder, pulling his brother forward until their foreheads touched. "You _did_," he said softly and frowned when he saw Sirius's grey eyes were shining with unshed tears. "Siri . . . you fought them. Mum and Dad. You knew who you were and what you stood for and you bloody well stood for it. Do you know how long it took me to figure that out for myself?" He shook his head, releasing his grip on Sirius and then leaned back, enjoying the feel of a pillow beneath his head for the first time in almost two decades. "Sirius, we were dealt a shit hand and did our best with it. I . . . I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough, brave like you, to figure life out earlier."

Sirius looked up, surprised. "Reg . . . I'm not brave. Not . . . I'm reckless," he clarified. "Always have been and I spent twelve years in prison to prove it. Bravery is . . . is admitting that you're afraid and . . . and not giving a fuck. I'm not brave, Reggie. _You _are."

"Am not," Regulus said, reminiscent of their shared adolescence years decades ago.

"I know what you did," Sirius whispered. "Everyone knows. The Horcrux."

Regulus's eyes widened and he turned and stared at his brother. "It was destroyed?" he asked. "I mean . . . I know he's gone. I remember the battle, at least . . . a bit. It's a blur sometimes. But . . . it's gone?"

Sirius nodded. "So are the six others that he made."

The colour drained from Regulus's face and he rested all of his weight back against the bed and pillows behind him. "Six . . . fuck . . . fuck . . ." he mumbled and reached up to run a hand through his hair, a bit frustrated when it snagged, still unused to the feel of hair and not feathers. He made a plan to have it all cut away later. "You know about Hermione."

Sirius nodded. "We'll talk about that later."

"Is she okay?" Regulus asked, a deep frown etched into his face. "I mean . . . the Malfoy boy. He loves her. I remember, they came to fly one night and I heard but . . . they know?"

"They know," Sirius replied. "The contract. It still exists."

"She's going to hate me."

Sirius laughed. "You give yourself too much credit. She may look like a Black, but she's got Marley's temper," he said with a smile and then reached out, taking Regulus's hand, noting the wedding band that still sat there on his finger. "She was a good witch. A good friend. I'm glad she had you." He moved to stand up and Regulus gripped his hand harder.

"Don't . . . don't leave me . . . okay?"

Sirius smiled and cupped Regulus's face in his hand. "You'll never get rid of me, Reg. Never."

"Mother of Merlin," a voice said through a gasp in the doorway and both Black brothers looked up to see Minerva standing there, hand clutched to her chest and mouth hanging open as she stared ahead, her spectacled eyes locked on Regulus. "It _is _you."

Regulus forced himself to smile, the action far from instinctive. "Hello, Minerva."

She moved quickly into the hut and perched herself on the side the bed, nearly shoving Sirius away in order to reach the younger Black. "Oh, my boy . . . you . . . an Animagus?" she asked, doing her best to appear shocked and not impressed. "This whole time? What was the reason? Did you know you would need to go into hiding? Were you using your form to —"

"Don't be absurd, Minerva," Severus drawled angrily from behind her, his dark eyes narrowed at the living form of his — previously thought dead — best friend. "He's a Black. He did it just to prove that he could."

Regulus smirked and leveraged his hand against the headboard to sit up so that he could greet his fellow Slytherin. "Good to see you, Severus."

Severus glared at the man and scoffed loudly, crossing his arms over his chest defensively and looking far more cross than he'd appeared in quite some time. "Had I been told that you'd decided to spend your life as an overgrown chicken," he said, sneering, "I might have been of some assistance over the years. Was the secrecy truly necessary?"

Regulus shrugged. "Sure felt like it at the time. Then again, most secrets feel necessary in the beginning," he added, his fingers lightly running against the inside of his left arm, eyes drawn to the now faded tattoo there.

Sirius, seeing his brother get lost in the Mark, cleared his throat. "A hippogriff though? Isn't it rare to have a magical creature as an Animagus?"

Regulus looked up and raised an incredulous brow at his brother. "You're a _Grim_," he said, his tone of one that implied Sirius's stupidity.

"I'm a _dog_," Sirius replied, looking slightly offended.

"You're a Grim," Regulus repeated.

"I'm a labrador."

"Labradors aren't the size of a small bear," Regulus said rolling his eyes and then looked up as Madam Pomfrey walked in, squeezing past both Severus and Minerva to make her way to his side.

The mediwitch frowned at the sight of him and then, instead of falling to emotional pieces or bitter shock like everyone else, she got to work. "If the two of you are done behaving like children . . ." She raised her wand and did a series of diagnostic charms, reading each one carefully before casting the next. After several minutes of silence while Sirius spoke with Minerva quietly about what would need to be done, and Severus stood, glaring over Poppy's shoulder, the mediwitch stood and smiled. "Your health is quite good although there are some nutritional concerns. I'd also like you to get some Vitamix Potions in you and perhaps some Strengthening . . . Severus, can you —"

"Of course," the surly Potions Master answered.

She nodded. "Good. I know it would be more comfortable here in Hagrid's hut, but I'd prefer keep you in the infirmary so I can better monitor you. After so many years in that form . . . I don't want there to be any lingering problems," she insisted and then looked to the bowl of steaming liquid that had been placed by the bed. "And finish that broth. Whoever thought of that was quite —"

Regulus frowned. "Hermione."

The mediwitch smiled softly. "Oh . . . well . . . she's proven time and time again how very brilliant she is, now hasn't she?"

He looked up, his eyes connecting with his brother. "Where's Hermione?"

"Outside," Severus answered instead. "With Draco."

Slightly annoyed, Regulus tempered his feelings about the boy, or really, the boy's family. "Will . . . can Severus and I have a moment?" he asked the gathered group, feeling a touch claustrophobic with everyone standing there just staring at him as though he was preparing to shift back into his Animagus form and fly away.

Minerva was the first to nod. "Of course. I'll return to my office and make certain Mister Potter was able to get in touch with the Minister."

Sirius patted him on the shoulder before he turned to reluctantly follow Minerva and Poppy outside. "I'll be right outside, Reg."

When the group had cleared and the door was shut behind them, Regulus let out a breath of relief and leaned back against the pillows once more. Severus moved to sit beside him. "A hippogriff? When the fuck did you have time to become an Animagus?"

Regulus chuckled. "I always told you I was good at Transfiguration," he said smugly.

Severus scowled. "And you knew about Black and Potter and Lupin . . . and . . ."

The younger wizard nodded. "I knew they were Animagi. And about the werewolf."

The Potions Master looked angry but torn in whether or not he wanted to address that anger or merely let it go, which seemed the better of the two options. "And you've been here, at Hogwarts this whole —"

Regulus shook his head. "Not the whole time," he answered, remembering bits and pieces of the years where he wasn't even in the country, perhaps on the continent somewhere, he wasn't entirely certain. "I went looking for Sirius and ran into Dolohov and Macnair that night. They were sent to kill him but couldn't find him either. I'm guessing —"

"Pettigrew had been switched as the Potter's Secret Keeper."

Regulus sighed. "Yeah. Figured that one out too late," he said bitterly. "He's dead, yes?" he asked and felt himself relax at Severus's nod. "I went looking for my brother after I found out what had happened at Godric's Hollow. Heard about you and the others being taken in but . . . they weren't even going to give him a trial and _someone _needed to —"

"Your mother?" Severus asked, appalled.

"Vicious cunt," Regulus growled and angrily shoved at the bedside table, the bowl of broth nearly tipping over. He made to grab for it, but Severus caught it instead and sighed, bringing it up to his friend's mouth, offering him a drink. After taking a large swallow, he cleared his throat and continued. "Glad she's dead. Bitch broke my wand and locked me in my . . . she sold me off to some fucking trafficker and I ended up . . . it doesn't matter where I ended up. I flew back here because no one was at the Cottage . . . years. I think I was gone for years. Time is . . . difficult to pay attention to. Seasons are easier but even they . . . blend and —"

"She's fine," Severus said, feeling that perhaps Regulus's stressful rambling had more to do with his daughter than anything else.

Regulus frowned. "She . . . she's beautiful. I remember . . . bits and pieces. I saw her come across on the boats. Good glamour," he said with approval. "I remember attacking the boy, the Malfoy boy," he clarified. "And then Hagrid kept me in the pumpkin patch, close to his hut. I was separated from the herd, but I wasn't certain why."

Severus snorted. "You injured Lucius's son. Did you think you'd get away with it? There was a trial of sorts and you were sentenced to death."

Regulus didn't comment as he put the pieces together, finding himself a bit too angry that he, a hippogriff, had been given a trial when Sirius hadn't been offered one. After a minute of silence, breaking eye contact with Severus to sip at the broth that Hermione's little elf had brought him, he spoke. "How did the glamour break? Did you tell her about me?"

Severus shook his head. "Now is not the time."

Regulus clenched his teeth. "Was she hurt?"

His friend only nodded. "It was war. She survived. Find it in yourself to be thankful for that and do your best to let the everything else go. She'll come around," Severus said, interrupting him. "She's a Gryffindor. They're very resilient."

Regulus nodded, rubbing his wedding band, relishing the feel of it against his skin, human skin. "I remember. Thank you. For keeping her safe," he said and then frowned, touching his ring once more. "And . . . I'm sorry. About . . . about Lily."

Severus stiffened and then sighed, looking like a man defeated. "She and I were barely acquaintances by the end. Be sorrier that I thought _you _had died," he said bitterly.

"I'm sorry," Regulus said and then sat up, reaching out and pulling his friend into a tight hug that Severus refused to participate in.

"Ugh . . . you are far too much like your ridiculously sentimental child. You weren't properly Sorted."

Regulus laughed. "I know. I've missed you."

Severus rolled his eyes but finally, with great hesitation, returned the tight embrace. After several moments of silence, they parted. Released from Regulus's grip, he stood and dusted off his robes as though his friend was likely to have left behind feather dander. "Have your brother drag you to the Hospital Wing. I'd prefer not to have whatever you ate for breakfast vomited on my boots. They're dragonhide."

"Ferrets," Sirius said as he stepped back into the hut, clearly unable to leave the pair alone for long; his hands were fidgeting badly with a need to do something. "He ate ferrets," he said with a smirk and then grimaced at the memory of the sight, "Ugh . . . I've watched him kill a live ferret and then eat it."

"I watched you kill and eat _rats _in that cave we stayed in a few years back," Regulus pointed out, remembering the short time they lived outside of Hogsmeade when Sirius had been on the run, remaining in his own Animagus form more often than not.

Sirius scoffed as though they were now playing a game. "Yeah well . . . when we had to move back into Grimmauld Place, I had to clean up hippogriff shit for two bloody years."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "I was an Animagus at the time, not like I could do it myself. Besides, I've seen _you _lick your own bollocks in _your _form; you don't get to judge me," he said with a much too proud smirk as he watched Sirius's eyes widen in embarrassment and Severus stare at them both in disgust.

* * *

**A/N**: I know, I know. I promise I'll get the Hermione/Regulus reunion in the next chapter. She's a bit traumatized at the moment and Regulus needed to have his time with Sirius and Severus. Also, I laughed for like twenty minutes when Fluffpanda and I first decided on Buckbeak as Regulus's Animagus form because I just imagined all the time that Sirius spent with him both on the run and bored at Grimmauld Place, and I'm thinking a portion of that time was spent as Padfoot. What would Sirius have gotten up to, thinking his only company was a hippogriff? LOL.


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: As promised . . .

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirty-Five

_Beatus_

* * *

**March 1999**

Regulus was brought to the Hospital Wing where Poppy and Severus took turns slipping potions down his throat before more broth and a bit of cooked food was brought in for him to eat. Regulus struggled not to devour it like a man starved. It had just been too long since he'd tasted real food that wasn't raw meat, stale rock cakes that Hagrid would slip him from time to time, or pumpkins from the patch that he would break into when bored.

The Calming Draught kicked in sometime before sunset. Both Minerva and Severus left to attend dinner in the Great Hall while Sirius watched over him as he drifted off to sleep. The potion didn't last very long and somewhere shortly after midnight he supposed, Regulus woke to find a large black dog sleeping at the foot of his bed. Slowly, he crawled out of the large cot and stood to stretch his limbs, eager to feel his human form again.

The sound of snoring pulled his attention and he stepped around the curtains drawn around his bed to see a slumber party in the beds next to him. Few faces felt vaguely familiar. A redheaded boy who slept next to a blond girl that Regulus remembered used to sneak into the Forbidden Forest near the hippogriff paddock, where she'd feed them whatever she'd snuck away from the kitchens before offering apologies that she couldn't stay longer, as the thestrals were expecting her. In a large chair rested a redheaded girl, her legs draped over the body of a tall, lanky boy who was holding her hand, even as they slept. On the floor in front of them was a boy Regulus knew at once: Harry Potter.

The only occupants in an actual bed were Hermione, his daughter, who was curled up into a ball, her fists clenching the robes against the chest of the blond boy she was breathing against. Regulus fought the urge to growl, knowing that he had no right, and instead moved to her side, pulling a chair forward and sitting down in it.

He stared at her for a good long while. Admiring the colour of her curls and the way that they stuck out in certain directions as though they had a mind of their own . . . so much like her mother. He frowned as the moonlight came in through the window, lingering over her skin and reflecting off of the soft, silvery scar tissue. Small marks on her arms and legs, some small ones he actually remembered from when she was so very, very small and would trip and skin her knees. Those he could live with. But there were others; reminders of war. There was a deep and dark scar against her neck, and another, hidden beneath the boy's hand, lingering on her forearm.

Curious, Regulus attempted to lift it away so he could get a better look, but at one touch, Draco stiffened. Silver eyes stared up at Regulus, wide and panicked, bordering somewhere between fear and defiance, and his grip on Hermione tightened as he pulled her closer to his chest, looking like he was readying himself for Regulus to tear her away.

"Don't wake her," Regulus whispered.

Draco reached for his wand and flicked it out toward the other sleeping students, casting what Regulus remembered to be a _Muffliato_, one of Severus's creations. "Madam Pomfrey gave her Dreamless Sleep," he said. "She won't wake until morning."

Regulus nodded. "Not a regular Sleeping Potion?"

Draco shook his head. "She has nightmares sometimes."

Regulus frowned. "War?"

Draco nodded.

They stared at one another for a long moment of silence before Regulus turned and looked at the sleeping teenagers. "Do they not have rooms of their own?"

"Hermione didn't want to . . . she wanted to check on you and Madam Pomfrey didn't want to send her away. She wasn't . . . they came to support Hermione," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "Bloody Gryffindors can't exist without living in one another's personal lives. They worry about her."

"I'm glad she has them."

Draco scowled. "She has _me_. _I_ can take care of her now," he nearly hissed.

Regulus raised an amused brow. "How does _she _feel about that?"

"She'd hex me if she was awake," Draco admitted. "Doesn't change anything. She's mine."

He was tempted to tell the boy that the witch had been _his_ first, but he was strangely entertained at the way the boy was possessive over his daughter. Holding her tightly like he was . . . like he'd die without her. Regulus rubbed at the wedding band on his finger and then merely muttered. "We'll see," before leaning back in the chair, never breaking eye contact with the boy.

Twenty minutes of silence and Regulus's eyes fell on the faded Dark Mark on Draco's forearm and he sighed. "I was seventeen," he admitted.

Draco's eyes flickered to the faded Dark Mark on Regulus's forearm. "Seventeen," he echoed with a deep frown.

Regulus nodded. "I thought I could protect my brother."

Draco swallowed. "My . . . my m-mother," he said and the two shared a moment of silent understanding where Regulus looked at the boy and saw it. Saw the guilt and regret and things that no boy his age should have to live with. He saw the blood, stained on his skin and his soul, slowly being cleaned away by the remorse there in his gaze.

It was a familiar gaze. He'd seen it in his own reflection.

"I'm glad she has you," Regulus whispered before standing up and making his way back to his own bed.

oOoOoOo

After that first night, Hermione avoided him for four whole days; her father, Regulus Black.

When her friends started questioning her about it, she started sleeping in the Slytherin common room. She reasoned that she and Regulus were perfect strangers and people who _actually _knew him and loved him had more reason to be in the room with him than her. Sirius had a full two decades worth of reconciliation to be had with his little brother, and Severus deserved time with his best friend. Plus Madam Pomfrey needed to make sure he was in good health and Hermione would very likely just get in the mediwitch's way and . . . and . . .

But she occasionally kept nearby. And she asked Winston to check in on him. And she eavesdropped when Winston checked in on him.

"You're my . . . your Hermione's elf?" Regulus asked Winston as she popped into the infirmary, Hermione listening just outside the door beneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak, too nervous to step inside the room even if she couldn't be seen.

Winston arrived with Regulus's breakfast on the fourth day, a plate of bacon, tomatoes, and beans — but not eggs, because Hermione remembered something that Kreacher had told her once — and a bowl of porridge with blueberries and a glass of pumpkin juice. "Yes, Master Regulus," Winston said with a chipper tone. "Mistress says to give Master Regulus all his favourites to eat."

"How does she know my favourites?" he questioned.

Winston paused. "She says Master's elf, Kreacher, told her."

"Kreacher's still alive? Wow . . . that's . . . that's great. Thank you . . . umm . . ."

"Winston," the elf said happily.

Regulus chuckled. "Winston. Thank you. You're a good little elf."

Hermione scrunched her face up tight, trying to stop herself from crying over the fact that he was treating her elf so sweetly. She could have assumed, of course, that he would, given Kreacher's unblinking loyalty to the man. But Sirius had issues with the decrepit old house-elf, and Lucius Malfoy had been so very terrible to Dobby which made her think that some wizards would treat some elves kindly while others poorly until someone insisted otherwise. She shook her head, ridding herself of any escaped tears and wrapped the Invisibility Cloak around her like it was a security blanket.

oOoOoOo

Up in Gryffindor Tower, where she'd locked herself away after the week's classes ended, Hermione was found sitting in the center of Harry's bed, waiting for her friends to return from Quidditch practice. When Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean all stepped through the door, laughing over some joke that Seamus had just said, they all stopped at the sight of the witch.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, frowning. "You all right?"

She just silently shook her head no.

"Can we get a minute, guys?" he asked the others.

Dean, Seamus, and Neville all nodded, the latter smiling at the witch and offering a quiet, "Feel better, Hermione," before shutting the door.

Ron walked over and draped an arm around Hermione who looked close to breaking. "Is this a dad thing?" he quietly asked and frowned when she just started crying, nodding her head as she buried it in her arms, pulling her knees to her chest, letting her body tip against him as he held her. He looked up at Harry, shocked and not entirely knowing what to do, and stroked her hair until she calmed down.

"Right," Ron said. "I'll leave you two for a bit then. I need a shower and don't want to sweat and stink all over you, 'Mione." He chuckled. "Ferret might not be too pleased with you smelling like a Weasley," he said with a smirk and Hermione actually let out a soft laugh, thanking him silently.

When the door shut, leaving her alone with Harry, he sat down on his bed in front of her and sighed. "What's going on, Hermione?"

She sniffed. "When . . . when I was ten, about a month before I got my Hogwarts letter, I got sick. Nothing very serious, but enough where I was pretty much bed-ridden for a few days and fairly miserable," she said. "My parents had a vacation planned. There was a conference they were going to for work, and it was being held near a nice vacation spot so they thought they'd extend their trip by a few days and visit some old friends from University that were going to be in the area. But . . . but they cancelled their trip because I got sick. I was supposed to stay with my grandmother, my mum's mum, and she could have taken very good care of me. But they cancelled their trip and my mum make me chicken soup and my dad sat on the sofa with me and we watched cartoons together."

Harry furrowed his brows. "Why does that make you sad, Hermione?"

She looked up, eyes still wet and red. "Because they told me that even though they hadn't had a chance to be alone together in years, and even though they hadn't seen their friends since they left school, they would rather be with me than anyone else in the world," she said, hiccoughing, doing her best not to break into a fresh new set of sobs. "I've . . . I've not gone to see . . . to see him . . . haven't said a word to him," she said, choking a bit on her words. "And what if . . . what if Regulus feels the same way and I've just been too afraid to . . ."

Harry pulled her into his arms and hugged her as tight as he could without knocking the breath from her lungs, letting her cry against his chest. "Do you think that you'd be disrespecting your parents if you went to see him?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Can I . . . Hermione, when I faced Voldemort and . . . I saw my parents," he confessed. "I had the Stone and I used it to see them. They were standing right there in front of me and I knew what was coming. I knew what I needed to do," he said, stroking her hair until she pulled back from him to look in his eyes as he spoke. "I remember thinking, well at least if I die, I'll be with my parents," he said with a frown. "And then I thought of you and Ron and the other Weasleys and Remus and . . . and Sirius," he said, trying to clear his throat. "And it was absurd really, but I remember thinking that I felt selfish knowing that I was a bit happy at the idea that if I died, I could be with my parents, knowing what it would do to everyone left behind."

Tiny, quiet sobs shook her body as she listened to her best friend.

"I think . . . at least I would _like _to think," he said with a heavy sigh, "that if my parents were . . . if they came back to me, I think I could love everyone. I would want to be with them and still . . . you know . . . think of Sirius as a parent too," he admitted. "I don't think they'd mind. I think they'd understand. It was their plan, right? They did make him my godfather."

She nodded in understanding.

"Regulus and Snape planned for this. I mean, I doubt he thought that he'd be stuck as a hippogriff for seventeen years but . . . they knew what might happen. That he might not make it and they planned for you to go and live with Muggles. He knew what he was doing," he told her. "I don't think he expects you to suddenly revert to the little girl he knew all those years ago. You can . . . Hermione, it's okay for you to want to have a father. I met your parents before. They were good people. They'd want you to be happy."

oOoOoOo

After a final dose of Calming Draught to help him sleep through the uncomfortable side effects of the Strengthening Draughts Madam Pomfrey and Severus insisted on, and Regulus opened his eyes to look around the infirmary, realising that once again he'd slept the day away. He sighed but then couldn't help but look for the silver lining, in that he was in a bed and not a paddock or pumpkin patch, sleeping on clean sheets instead of cold ground or itchy bales of hay.

He sat up in the bed and stretched his arms above him while yawning, bringing his hands down to run fingers through his now short, black hair, happy to feel the weight of it gone. Sirius had teased and said it made Regulus look like the older brother, and Regulus wasn't unkind enough to note aloud that Azkaban had aged Sirius in ways that being stuck as a hippogriff for over a decade could never have done to him. Instead, he told his older brother that his long hair made him look like a girl and the two had shared a grin.

Eager to get up and walk around a bit, Regulus swung his legs over the side of the bed and moved to stand but stopped when he caught sight of the witch sitting against the wall across from his bed, her legs folded beneath her. She was staring at him, wide grey eyes that mirrored his own, twisting a long black lock of hair between her fingers nervously.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Regulus replied, swallowed hard at the first sight of his daughter since he'd watched her sleeping in the arms of the Malfoy boy.

"I umm . . ." she mumbled, standing up and smoothing down her pleated grey skirt as she hesitantly approached him, wiping her palms on her red and gold jumper before extending a hand to him, posture straight and stiff. "I'm Hermione Gra — umm . . . Bla . . . I'm Hermione."

Regulus smiled softly and took her small hand within both of his, holding it gently instead of shaking it in introduction. "I know," he whispered. "I named you."

She nodded, not moving to withdraw her hand from him. "I . . . I always thought I'd been named after a character in Shakespeare," she confessed. "A Winter's Tale."

Regulus nodded. "I know of it," he admitted. "I suppose you know the truth though."

She gave him a small smile. "Daughter of Helen of Troy," she said. "Her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world."

"She really was," he gently insisted.

She laughed nervously, using her free hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "I'm afraid I don't live up to the standard set by mythology," she said.

"I disagree."

She stared at him for a long moment, and Regulus saw light reflecting off of moisture in her eyes. He said nothing, allowing her to take the conversation where she needed to.

"Still," she said, finally pulling away from him so that she could use both of her hands to nervously fidget, worrying the hem of her jumper in her fingers. "It's a bit appropriate I suppose. _In my childhood I had no mother, my father was ever in the wars _—"

"_Though the two were not dead . . . _not both at least," he said with a regretful sigh. "You were reft of both." He frowned up at her. "I should say, however, that we were there . . . at least for a time, in your early years receiving the caressing prattle from the tripping tongue of you, our little girl. There was, in fact, a time when you clasped about my neck with little arms that would not reach, and did sit, a burden sweet, upon my lap."

Hermine smiled, not sure why she was surprised that he could quote Ovid so easily. "Did you know the daughter of Helen, the original Hermione was betrothed to a cousin?" she asked him. "Orestes. But he died of a snakebite."

"_Died_ of a snakebite, or was a snake himself?" Regulus questioned, with a smirk.

Hermione awkwardly laughed. "Depends on which Hermione, I suppose. I happen to prefer the snake to the bite."

"As long as he's tamed, I suppose," Regulus said.

She smirked. "As well as you, I imagine."

"That doesn't say much for him, I'm afraid."

She frowned. "I think it quite says _a lot_ about him. I . . . I brought some of your things," she said, turning around and moving back to her chair where she withdrew a stand of bound leather books from her bag, returning to him, holding out the diaries. "I . . . I hope you don't mind that I read them. I . . . it was all I had and I didn't know how else to —"

"It's fine," he admitted. "I . . . I meant for them to be read, one day, at least," he said, staring at the books and taking them from her tender grip, trying to recall what horrors and sins he had admitted in ink that his daughter had seen. "You . . . you read them all?"

Hermione nodded. "Every word. Some pages had feathers as bookmarks and I'm not sure if they were supposed to be there for someone to specifically come across anything important, or just perhaps accidentally left behind, pressed between pages. For a while I thought Leo, my owl, was molting . . . he has black and grey feathers you see, and Draco and Harry both figured out that you were an Animagus and they thought my owl was you because I guess it made sense at the time because of the colouring, and I've named him Leo which is the constellation where Regulus resides and Leo doesn't much like Draco, always biting and such . . . and well, he bit Luna just the other morning and Daphne that same afternoon so we think that perhaps he just has a dislike for blondes and —" she stopped talking mid-sentence when she noticed he'd started to chuckle. "Sorry . . . I . . . what was it you said? I prattle?"

He nodded and smiled. "Your mother, my Marley . . . she did the same."

Hermione smiled brightly at that. "Was I always —"

"So talkative?" he asked and then smiled, nodding. "Since you first learned your lips could form words."

Her smile increased and then, as silence once again took hold, she cleared her throat and walked back to her bag, pulling it and the chair closer to his bed. "I umm . . . was wondering if you could help me with something. I've taken on a project for my N.E.W.T.s, trying to solve a theory that covers both Advanced Transfiguration and Advanced Charms. My hypothesis is that a Patronus can change not only due to emotional upheaval of sorts, but also if and when a person goes through the process of becoming an Animagus. For instance, my Patronus is an otter, but I've done the meditations and my Animagus form would be a kneazle. I've asked Sirius and he says that since he became an Animagus at such a young age, well before he could cast a Patronus, he couldn't know . . . and Professor McGonagall agrees and I wanted to ask more in-depth questions, but you can hardly form any decent theory on a subject group of only two. However, as they're the only Animagi that I know . . ." she paused and pursed her lips, "well, that's not entirely true, I do know a beetle Animagus but I'd rather not ever speak to her and I doubt she'd be willing to part with her secrets considering I'm still technically blackmailing her over the one that I'm aware of and she's still likely very cross that I kept her in a jar for a few weeks and —"

Regulus stared at her in awe. "You . . . you want me to help you with your homework?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip. "If . . . if it's not too much trouble. It's just . . . Sirius and Professor McGonagall are staff members and it feels a bit like cheating since they both teach Transfiguration. I thought about speaking to Severus, but frankly I wasn't in the mood for him lecturing me about silly wand waving . . . nevermind that a wand is completely unnecessary when undergoing Animagi training and he's not even an Animagus himself. Still . . . he is proficient with a Patronus, but so is Professor Lupin and . . . and I'm prattling again, aren't I?"

Regulus smiled and nodded. "Please, never stop," he said.

Hermione grinned and immediately pulled out a long roll of parchment and no less than three books covering both subjects, laying them out across his bed, all opened to specific sections, each marked by a black and grey feather.

oOoOoOo

"I'm happy for you," Draco said, kissing the side of her head as she told everyone the following morning about how brilliant Regulus was and that he'd helped her with her essay by offering insights from the perspective of someone who'd become an Animagus and struggled with the Patronus Charm. Then he'd watched for over twenty minutes as she'd showed him her otter over and over again, smiling with rapt attention as the spectral creature swam midair around the infirmary, pausing once to allow Hermione to send a message to Winston, requesting tea and biscuits.

"She still going on about her father?" Blaise asked as he sat down across from the pair. "Not that I mind. We're all thrilled for you, Hermione. There are, however, other things going on you know. For instance, I'm dating twins," he said and winked across the hall at Padma and Parvati Patil who giggled as they made their way to the Ravenclaw table.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You remind me of my uncle sometimes."

Blaise shrugged. "What's that? A man irresistible to women and men alike?"

She nodded. "Something like that. I like to think of it more as a man who overcompensates with his sex life because he's a bit emotionally stunted. Take a page from Sirius's book, Blaise. Confront your fears. Embrace the idea of a loving committed relationship."

"And what? Shack up with a werewolf?"

"If that's your pleasure," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Blaise scoffed. "I am _not _overcompensating for anything, sweetheart. I am moving on. No more chasing after Chasers," he said, casting a glance in Ginny's direction, purposely ignoring her as she laughed into Neville's shoulder. "I'm happy as I am, thank you. Plus . . . twins!" he said and waggled his eyebrows.

"Good on you, mate," Ron said to Blaise as he sat down beside Hermione, Luna hanging onto his arm with a sweet smile as they joined the Slytherin table.

"I think it's lovely that Padma and Parvati are so good at sharing," Luna said serenely and Draco nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Nice catch last game, by the way," Blaise told Ron. "I mean, it was Hufflepuff but still."

Ron nodded. "They've gotten better over the years. Still, doesn't surprise me that we came out ahead."

"Better hope that you got far enough ahead," Draco smirked. "Hufflepuff Seeker is rubbish and when we play them in a month, I'm going to sit back on my broom and stare at the clouds for three or four hours, letting the points rack up, before I steal the Snitch right out from under his nose. That Cup is mine this year."

Ron snorted. "You wish, Malfoy."

Hermione sighed. "Sports and girls. I'm so glad that we've accomplished inter-House unity so that we could all participate in and enjoy these intellectually stimulating moments," she said sarcastically and then yelped when Draco pinched her side.

"Hermione," Daphne said as she sat down across from her friend, Theo at her side. "That bird of yours is a menace. I was just in the owlery trying to send a letter to my sister, and that bloody owl of yours attacked my head."

Hermione chuckled. "Sorry, Daph. I'm trying to break him of his hatred for blondes, I swear it."

"Ahem."

The table turned to see Harry standing there, holding onto Pansy Parkinson's hand. Everyone stared in silence for a good thirty seconds, watching as Harry began to sweat, before turning their attention back to their breakfast and speculation on how Gryffindor could get ahead in their next match against Ravenclaw.

"Our Beaters have opposing auras," Luna suggested. "You could use that against them. I know it would give an unfair advantage, but I have warned them repeatedly to start bathing in vinegar and they haven't taken my advice."

"No one's going to say _anything_?" Harry asked.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I told you this was ridiculous, but you needed to go and make a big scene about it."

Ron turned and cleared his throat, throwing his best friend a bone. "Oi!" he yelled, gesturing wildly to Harry and Pansy's clasped hands. "What's this then?!"

Immediately everyone broke out into laughter.


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Since all the chapters are written and ready to post, I'm going to post one right after another once they reach a certain number of reviews. Cheap, I know, but I gotta get something out of this, right? Reviews are the payment of writing fanfiction. You guys are awesome at leaving reviews, by the way. So there is one more chapter after this, followed by an Epilogue. Ask all the questions you want now so I have time to answer them before I publish it.

Q&amp;As - A lot of people seem to think that there's more going on to Leo the owl than I've led you to believe. There's not. Sometimes animals just don't like certain people. I've had dogs that completely freak out when I dye my hair a different colour. Leo likely was abused by someone with blond hair at some point in his life, but there's nothing more to it than that. **Guest**, Meela and Kreacher didn't feel Regulus return to his form because they weren't looking for him. I think of it kind of like a telephone. They can call and get a busy signal or a "this number has been disconnected" type of thing. But without picking up the phone, they'd never know whether or not he'd answer. Also, the Black and Malfoy lines will both continue, but I won't go into details there. **LJ Summers**, when I knew I was taking this road with Hermione's name, I kept a collection of quotes from Ovid about her to use throughout the story. Definitely not all stored up in my head. I wish. Kreacher, Meela, and Winston will likely not be making another appearance. It seemed a bit overkill to have every little last detail put into the story and it kind of dragged the flow a bit.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirty-Six

_Confiteor_

* * *

**April 1999**

A full month passed and Regulus was adjusting to life back on two feet. Instead of staying with Hagrid once he'd left the infirmary, he opted to stay with Severus in the dungeons, offering apologies to the half-giant who shrugged it off and said he was actually a little relieved, as he'd been worried he would accidentally call Regulus "Beaky" and try to do something embarrassing like pet him or offer him a treat.

The old friends fell back into the comfortable shared space of the dungeons, having lived together for six years at Hogwarts made it a bit easier. Regulus knew not to touch Severus's things and Severus could relax in knowing that he didn't have to entertain Regulus, who was happy to fall into a comfortable armchair with a book rather than talk.

They did talk though.

Severus, after being plied with a bit of firewhisky, confessed that in order to keep up appearances, he'd been particularly cruel to Hermione on a number of occasions. Regulus asked if he treated her any worse than the other Gryffindors, he'd admitted that no, Longbottom, Weasley, and Potter were usually his favourite intended targets. At the admission, Regulus frowned and told his friend that there were no apologies needed, at least not to him. He might, however, want to speak to someone about his temper and perhaps look into asking forgiveness for the children he did have a particular penchant for tormenting.

Severus told him about his life at Hogwarts, teaching, and how the Dark Lord had returned a few years ago, when Barty Crouch Jr — Regulus had been shocked that he'd survived Azkaban for more than a day — had succeeded in kidnapping an Auror, impersonating a professor, and tricking everyone for an entire school year.

"Have you written to Lucius or Narcissa?" Regulus asked one day, wondering what had become of his cousin and her husband as no one would tell him.

"No," Severus said with a tone that expressed his distaste in bringing up the subject of the Malfoys.

Over the weeks, Regulus adjusted to the presence of the many students and staff members who were eager to see him. McGonagall, in particular, spent a great many afternoons inviting him to her office for a cup of tea and to discuss perhaps how to prevent future Hogwarts students from stealing books on Animagi training from the Restricted Section. At least once a week, he left the dungeons to have a meal in the Great Hall, sitting usually between Severus and Sirius, making conversations with his brother and Remus, who had a familiar scar across his face.

"Did I do that to you?" Regulus asked. "I seem to remember confronting a werewolf that was chasing my daughter through the forest."

Remus had frowned and looked down in embarrassment. "Yeah . . . I . . . sorry about that."

Regulus shrugged it off. "She's safe now. Not your fault," he said. "I'd apologise for your face, but my brother seems to still fancy you so . . ." and he shrugged, leaving it at that.

Some afternoons he'd take a stroll down by the Black Lake and then sit beneath the old familiar beech tree, remembering when it was Marley, and not Hermione, sitting beside him rambling on and on about approaching exams.

"Professor Lupin isn't being hard enough on us," she complained. "He's not the one administering the N.E.W.T. exam and I'm positive that it's going to be absolutely awful. He's far too nice and I'm blaming it all on Harry," she said, rubbing tired eyes because she hadn't been sleeping due to late night study sessions.

He had to be told about her unhealthy study habits by both Harry and Draco when the two came to him for Seeker tips for upcoming games; Slytherin against Hufflepuff and Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. Regulus found it amusing that he was actually rooting for both of the boys though his own House alliance made him hope for a Slytherin victory. It wasn't as though Hermione enjoyed Quidditch anyway — breaking his heart.

Regulus made it a point to promise her decent study time with him, so long as it was outside, during normal daytime hours — leaving nights for sleeping, and that she would eat three square meals a day. She agreed and then proceeded to take up his entire day — much to his delight — when she wasn't in classes, asking his opinion on Gamp's Laws, his advice on whether or not showing her Patronus for her practical would be considered showing off, and whether or not Severus had ever shared his secrets to brewing Draught of Living Death, because she'd not paid attention to Harry during sixth year when he'd cheated.

He played along as well as he could but when she started doubting her Defence skills, he laughed. "Princess," he said with a smile. "You're going to get an Outstanding on that test."

She frowned. "I only got an 'E' on my O.W.L. for it though," she said.

He smiled at her. "So did your mother," he told her. "Went a bit mental over it too," he said fondly. "And if it makes you feel any better, even if you do only get an 'E', I never even took my N.E.W.T.s."

It did not, in fact, make her feel better. Instead, she gaped at him in absolute horror and then proclaimed loudly that no father of hers was going to walk around without a complete education and she would demand — or ask very politely — that Professor McGonagall allow him to take the tests. Regulus laughed at the absurd idea of taking his N.E.W.T.s twenty years too late, but couldn't do anything but go along with her idea . . . because she had referred to him as her father.

oOoOoOo

Regulus sat in the Slytherin common room, having been invited by Draco. The other young snakes fled at the sight of him arriving, but he had a feeling it had more to do with Draco than him at that given moment. The boy clearly wanted a private audience. It was . . . intriguing. He sat down in a large armchair in front of the fireplace and Draco stood there, still as a statue, head lowered ever so slightly. Only another Slytherin would have seen it as the contrite position that it was. Regulus felt oddly like a King or . . . god forbid, a Lord, preparing to bring down a sentence upon the boy whenever he managed to confess whatever sins he planned on admitting.

"I called her a Mudblood for years."

There it was.

"Why are you doing this, Draco?" Regulus asked, his brows furrowed in contemplation.

The blond boy sighed and ran a nervous hand through his hair, doing his best to keep eye contact with Regulus. "I need . . ." he tried to say but then stopped, looking as though he was weighing his thoughts in the moment, perhaps regretting the invitation entirely.

Regulus, taking a grasp at Draco's thoughts, spoke first, "You have the approval of her Paterfamilias. Sirius agreed to let you court and marry her when you became official. I will not be ignoring that," he said. It had been slightly annoying, knowing that Hermione's future husband had been approved of by his brother instead of him, but after getting to know his daughter, he figured that approval of her love life wasn't something she outwardly sought.

Draco shook his head. "He was her Head of House at the time but . . . but you're her father. And you don't even know me well enough to know whether or not I'm good enough for her."

Regulus scoffed. "I know enough about you to say that you're not good enough for her," he admitted, figuring any father would say the same. "But that it doesn't matter because no one would be. Still, she loves you and that's what matters."

Draco swallowed hard. "I don't want secrets."

Regulus frowned. This wasn't just about approval. Draco was burdened. Suddenly things were making more sense. "You called her a Mudblood," Regulus said, provoking the boy to continue to lift the weight from his own shoulders. Regulus couldn't help but wish that someone had been able to do the same for him when he was that age. Marlene tried but . . . she loved him too much. He knew that now.

The boy nodded his head and sighed, looking far too guilty for a wizard of his young age. Bearing the weight of his father's sins and his own. A former bully and a Death Eater and not knowing how to repent for the simple actions of one when the other held so much more weight. "She cried," he confessed. "A lot. And I hexed her in the halls. I . . . I wished her dead once. I was twelve and there was a Basilisk and she got petrified and when I found out I . . . and I tried to have her bloody father killed during third year."

Regulus almost laughed at that last one. Hermione had told him the story in great detail. He'd been there of course, but couldn't trust his memory when it came to some events. He remembered attacking the boy, and Hagrid crying a great deal that year. He'd been pulled from the paddock to spend time in the pumpkin patch which was a nice change. And then there was a full moon, a werewolf, and he'd been flown to the West Tower where he was reunited with his brother and then they'd flown away together, on the run, flying and hiding and living in caves and feasting on rat carcasses and what little food Harry, Ron, and Hermione could sneak from the castle.

It had been news to hear that prior to helping to free his brother, Regulus had been sentenced to death thanks to Draco and his father. "Are you sorry for that?" he asked.

Draco raised a brow. "Are you sorry for cutting up my arm?"

Regulus shrugged. "Not particularly," he admitted truthfully. "You were an arrogant little shit."

"Still am," the boy said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm working on it," he said, his frown returning. "I . . . I was betrothed to another. My parents didn't know about Hermione so they didn't know the contract existed and I was betrothed to another girl. Younger than me. I . . . I didn't want to marry her and when the Dark L . . . when _Voldemort _told me . . . when I was Marked . . . I was told I had to kill Dumbledore."

"But Severus did it for you," he said, finishing what he thought was Draco's ultimate confession. "I know all this. Severus told me."

"I slept with her. With Hermione," Draco blurted out and then — intelligently — took a step backwards. "I was engaged to another girl and I fell in love with your daughter and she's . . . she's the only one I ever —"

Regulus stood, his expression one of stone. "You . . . are either very brave, or very stupid," he said, eyeing the boy with mild curiosity and a good mixture of severe annoyance. "Were you improperly sorted? Do you not understand self-preservation at all?"

Draco took a deep breath and stood his ground, though he did bow his head in respect, which caused Regulus to pause. "Hippogriffs are proud and fiercely loyal," the boy said, "but only to people who have earned their trust. I haven't earned your trust and frankly I'd like to get everything out in the open because I've been on the end of your talons once before and I'd like to not repeat the experience. All secrets come out eventually, and I don't want to be thought of as someone who . . . I don't want to be a coward. As for being improperly sorted . . ." Draco paused, the corners of his mouth turning down.

Regulus knew the look. Shame. He decided to throw the kid a bone. "The hat tried putting me in Gryffindor," he said.

Draco swallowed again and then very quietly, whispered, "Umm . . . Ravenclaw."

Regulus smiled. "Smart kid." And he was, and Regulus respected intelligence, which made it difficult to stare at the boy who seemed to want either forgiveness or punishment, and know that he himself had no right or place to offer either. He was Hermione's father, yes, but she was a grown woman and he hadn't raised her. Nor was he any better than Draco himself, considering he'd not even bothered meeting Marlene's parents before betrothing himself to her, impregnating her, and whisking her away in an elopement and selfishly hiding her away in a cottage. "So you've come to let me absolve you of your sins?"

The boy neither confirmed nor denied. "Hermione forgives too easily."

Regulus nodded in agreement. Not once had his daughter screamed or yelled or even seemed even slightly upset with him for anything she'd gone through. It was his fault, his need to prove something, to himself, to his parents, to his brother . . . to Marlene . . . that got himself fake dead in the first placed. Perhaps if he'd just hidden away with Marlene, convinced her somehow to let Dumbledore and the Order work things out on their own, perhaps then he and Marley and Hermione would have been . . . but no . . . regrets were in the past and he had his daughter back. Regulus couldn't stand to want any more than that. He didn't deserve any more than that. He had no place forgiving Draco. There was nothing for him to forgive.

Still . . . the boy was practically prostrating himself at his feet and Regulus wasn't completely misplaced by the Sorting Hat. "What happened in the war?" he asked, taking a chance that he could use Draco's current guilt to get the answers he wanted.

Draco blinked. "Sir?"

"She has scars," Regulus clarified, catching the very subtle way that Draco flinched at the word. "Who gave them to her? No one will tell me, but I have a feeling you will. No secrets, yes?"

The boy looked down, breaking eye contact. "They're my fault."

"You cursed her?"

Draco shook his head. "I . . . I didn't stop it from happening. They . . . her, Potter, and Weasley were captured. Snatchers and Greyback, the werewolf."

Regulus breathed slow and deep at the name. "I knew of him."

"They brought them to the Manor, to Malfoy Manor. Father and mother . . . we'd screwed up. Fallen out of favour with the Dark Lord and he . . . he was angry with us. If we were the ones to bring him Potter, then . . . then he might have —"

Taking pity, Regulus sighed. "He would have found something else."

Draco nodded, seeming to accept the answer, though his guilt still obviously plagued him. "My father asked me to identify them. To verify that it was them before they called him, before they called Voldemort to come and kill Potter himself. I . . . I wouldn't do it," Draco said, looking as though he was trying to feel proud of his actions but couldn't quite get there. "I said that I wasn't certain who they were."

"You saved them."

Draco shook his head. "I really didn't. I could have but . . . but then Bellatrix —"

Regulus snapped to attention, grey eyes wide. "Bella? Bella was there?"

The boy nodded. "She's dead now. She . . . Severus killed her. Lestranges are dead as well."

"What did . . . what did Bella do to my daughter?" he asked, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Draco swallowed, finally seeing the trap that he'd fallen in; much too late to just crawl out. No, he'd need a rope now and that could only be offered to him by the deranged man standing in front of him. "She wanted information. Had Potter and Weasley locked in the cellar and she kept Hermione to . . . to torture for information."

"Crucio?" Regulus whispered, horrified.

Draco nodded.

"How long?"

"I don't know, I . . . long," Draco said, looking down again, the memory of the day clearly flashing before his eyes. Regulus was tempted to use Legilimency, but he wasn't certain he wanted to see that for himself. Knowing it happened was enough to make him ill. "Hermione had glamoured herself a bit," Draco explained, "and Bellatrix knew it so she . . . she dismantled the glamours but . . . she broke through to her core and shattered Severus's glamour. Then . . . she thought Hermione was mocking her by looking like —"

"The scar on her neck?" Regulus asked.

Draco nodded "Cursed dagger. I tried . . . I wanted to but —"

"Her arm?"

Draco frowned. "It says 'Mudblood'. I wanted to —"

Regulus shook his head and put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "You were only seventeen-years-old. Not expected to defy —"

"You did," Draco said. "I read your diaries too. I know what you did and why. You defied them all. Your parents and the Dark Lord and . . . but I didn't. I was a coward and I let her get hurt."

Regulus sighed. "You were a boy and Bellatrix Lestrange was a psychopath long before she ever stepped foot in Azkaban. Family meant nothing to her. She offered to murder Sirius as a gift to me. She would have killed you had you said anything. A seventeen-year-old boy is no match for a witch of her power. A grown wizard, on the other hand . . ." he said, a clear image painting itself in his mind just before things started turning red.

"Sir?"

"I forgive you, Draco," Regulus said quickly and then made for the door. "If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with my brother."

Draco blinked, his eyes panicked at Regulus's sudden exist. "Sir? Regulus!"

Regulus stormed through the castle and out the large doors, schooling his expression when he spotted his brother and Remus taking a walk by the lake, falling into a predictable routine that Regulus was about to benefit from greatly. He took a breath and did his best to calm himself as he approached the couple. "Sirius, Lupin. Beautiful afternoon isn't it? Lovely sunset."

Sirius grinned at his brother. "Didn't take you for a romantic, Reggie."

Regulus scoffed. If he only knew how worshipped Marlene was. Then again, Sirius had confessed to reading the diaries as well and was likely using this as an excuse to not bring them up. "Never thought I needed to read you poems, Sirius," Regulus said, taking the bait with gratitude. "Care to walk with me? I haven't been able to see Hogsmeade yet and I'd really like to see how the place has changed, but I . . . I don't want to go alone," he said, faking a look of anxiety and feeling only slightly bad about it.

Sirius frowned at Regulus's expression but Remus spoke up immediately. "We'd be happy to. Do you want to see if Hermione would like to join us?" he offered.

Regulus sighed. _Too easy_, he thought. _You'd think that after war and spies and everything they'd been through that they would learn to look for signs of lying but no _. . . "No. I . . . I'd rather not. Just in case I can't handle it. I don't want her to see me . . . afraid."

Sirius nodded in understanding but then offered, "She's seen much worse, trust me."

Regulus tried not to react. "I believe that," he said as they began walking, making their way down through the gates and against the brushing of the security and Anti-Disapparation wards around the school.

"How are you adjusting?" Remus asked.

Regulus nodded, scooting ever closer to his brother as he walked. "Quite well. It helps to have people to talk to. To catch me up with things that have happened in my . . . absence. It helps that the war is over and people that needed to die are dead. Voldemort for instance . . . and Bellatrix," he added curiously, watching their faces as he spoke.

Remus deeply frowned and Sirius outright growled, "Fucking bitch. Wish I could have killed her myself."

"I hear Severus got the privilege."

Sirius nodded. "I'll give it to him, he's got a good aim with a wand."

Regulus inwardly smiled, seeing his moment. On the outside, his frown deepened. "Speaking of wands . . . I need to get a new one. Mother snapped mine. Could I . . ." he said, looking at the chestnut wand in Sirius's holster on his arm, peeking out through the sleeve of his robes. He moved to touch but then withdrew his hand, looking ashamed for even thinking it. "I haven't held a wand in so long and I'd like to see if I can still even perform magic."

Sirius frowned, his mouth falling open a bit. "Of course. Gods, I didn't even think . . . we'll get you a new wand as soon as possible, Reg," he promised. "In the meantime," he added, pulling his wand from its holster, "here, take mine for a spin."

Regulus grinned as though it were Christmas. "Don't mind if I do," he said with a shy chuckle and took Sirius's wand, flicking it once to cast an easy Lumos and then genuinely smiling at the feel of magic, pure magic, radiating through the bit of wood and back through his fingers, penetrating his very soul. "Can I ask a question, Sirius? No one will tell me what happened to Lucius. Is he in Azkaban? I worry about Narcissa."

Sirius scoffed. "Don't worry about those two. He slipped out of Azkaban somehow, but his wand was taken, hers too. They're stuck at that old stuffy Manor under house arrest. Not allowed to do a single bit of magic."

Regulus looked up, ignoring Remus who had stopped walking toward Hogsmeade, his eyes staring at Regulus with obvious suspicion. "You've been to see them?" Regulus asked.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, Snape and I accompanied Hermione over there for Christmas. Cissy wanted to get to know her future daughter-in-law and since she couldn't leave the Manor —"

"Severus went with you?" Regulus questioned, interrupting his brother. "So the wards aren't set up against Death Eaters or —"

Sirius shook his head. "No, we got in just fine —"

Remus took a cautious step forward, slowly reaching for his own wand. "Regulus?"

Regulus smiled. "Thank you, big brother," he said to Sirius with a genuine smile of appreciation. "Thank you for telling me everything I need to know. And . . . and I'm sorry," he added and then, Sirius's wand gripped tightly in hand, he thought of Malfoy Manor, and then Disapparated away.

Sirius's eyes flew wide open. "What . . . Reggie!" he screamed. "What the fuck?!"

Out of breath and gasping, Hermione and Draco ran down the road to Hogsmeade, having been directed there by a few third years who had seen Professors Black and Lupin and Hermione's father head out through the gates. "Sirius!" Hermione called out to her uncle. "Where's Regulus?!"

The Animagus spun on his niece. "He just fucking . . . that little shit . . . he Disapparated. Did he . . . that little fucker stole my wand!"

Remus sighed. "Technically you gave it to him."

"What the fuck?! Where'd he go?"

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit," Draco mumbled in a panic. "We need to leave. I have to get home to Mother and Father. He knows. I'm so sorry, Hermione but . . . I told him. I told him what happened," he confessed to them all, having only originally admitted to Hermione that something might have been wrong with her father. Now, however . . .

"Oh, gods . . ." Hermione said, eyes wide, "he's going to kill Lucius."

* * *

**A/N**: Let's all go ahead and remember that classic rumour of Blacks being a little bit mentally unhinged, shall we? :)


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: Ugh. FFnet was not pleasant yesterday and decided not to send out any email alerts. That's why everyone should make sure to follow me on Twitter and tumblr (shayalonnie) where I let everyone know when I've updated something. Anywho . . .

This is the last chapter before the Epilogue which will go up later this afternoon.

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Chapter Thirty-Seven

_Dimitte_

* * *

**April 1999**

Malfoy Manor hadn't changed much. Not even the wards, which was a damn bit of luck for Regulus as he stormed right through the gates and nearly kicked open the front door. His inner Slytherin was reminding him to take a moment, to think about his actions, his surroundings, and react appropriately. But then again . . . he had almost been sorted into Gryffindor.

Reckless felt pretty good and he didn't have time to think of the repercussions of his actions.

At the sound of the front door slamming shut behind him, a tall, blond wizard walked into the foyer and Regulus grinned darkly at the sight of Lucius, actually finding himself a bit thrilled to see how terrible the man looked. At the sight of Regulus, Lucius's already pale face lost its remaining colour. Clearly no one had sent word to the Malfoys about his return from the supposed grave.

"Regulus," Lucius said in barely a whisper.

Regulus growled and stalked forward, Sirius's wand gripped in hand. "Lucius."

Lucius glanced down at the glass of liquor in his hand, eyes wide. He swallowed and then actually threw the drink into the nearby burning fireplace, watching as the flames burned bright for a split second as the fire drank up all the firewhisky before returning to a dull glowing red. The blonde looked back up as though he expected to suddenly be a touch more sober and Regulus would have faded. "You're . . . you're alive," he said in shock when he realised that Regulus was not a vision, not some hallucination caused by drinking.

Regulus scoffed. "Astute observation."

"How?"

"I think I'll keep my secrets to myself thank you," Regulus said with a sneer. "If I've heard correctly, you're all too willing to sell anyone out so long as it gives you a leg up."

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Heard that from your blood-traitor brother, did you?"

"No," Regulus said with a grin. "Your son."

Lucius swallowed and tried to school his expression to one of indifference, but failed terribly in the attempt. "You've spoken with Draco."

Regulus nodded, still moving closer. "Nice boy. Takes after his _mother_. He's very eager to prove his worth to me. See, he happens to be in love with my daughter. You've met my daughter yes?" he asked and his eyes blazed as he glared up at the man who had once been a friend.

Lucius, smart man that he was, looked afraid. "Regulus —"

"About this tall," Regulus said, interrupting Lucius to raise his hand — wand still in grip — up to Hermione's height, "black hair like mine . . . wasn't black for a long time for her own safety. Magnificent glamour Severus did, shame it was broken the way it was. But I've been told that you know exactly how that happened."

"Regulus —" Lucius said again and tried to step closer only to have the pointed end of a wand shoved under his jaw.

"In this very house, in fact," Regulus continued, speaking with an eerie calm. "Did the Dark Lord have his own room somewhere upstairs? The _Master _bedroom, I'd figure, considering everyone else in the world — this house specifically — were his personal slaves. Tell me, did Bella sleep in his bed even when he wasn't here? Is that where she stayed when she was here, with you, with all of you last year?"

Lucius swallowed, raising his hands. "Regulus . . . I don't have a wand."

Regulus nodded. "Yes, well . . . at the time neither did Hermione," he said, digging the wand against Lucius's throat further. "I named her myself, you know. After the daughter born to the most beautiful woman in the world. Helen of Troy," he said, gazing fondly at the wedding ring on his finger. "You know the story, do you not? Beloved Helen, a thousand ships sailed, many lives lost. A great war. Do you know about Hermione's _father_, Menelaus? He was King of Sparta. I always liked that title . . . _King_. I remember a Lord once offered me a throne to sit upon."

"A throne you turned down," Lucius pointed out.

"I did," Regulus said, nodding his head thoughtfully. "I found I'd rather have a sword in a hand than an arse on a seat. Now, Menelaus was similar, a _warrior_. In fact, when a man tried to steal his wife out from under him, he nearly beat him to death and only the Gods spared the man. Could you imagine what he would have done had it been his daughter? Only daughter? Are you a praying man, Lucius Malfoy?"

The blonde closed his eyes as though he were thinking about praying right then. "You would harm an unarmed man?"

Regulus let out a barking laugh. "You're joking, right?" he said with another laugh as though they were telling old stories of their youth like reunited friends. "I've murdered unarmed Muggles here in this house because a psychopath non-too subtly threatened my family. I killed Muggles, blood-traitors, Muggleborns and fucking _children _that _you _were too cowardly to even look at," he said his voice still low and calm but growing colder in tone with every word that left his lips, "leaving _me _to clean up the mess merely because I was the lesser of two still very fucked up evils.

"Evil, Lucius. He made us all evil," he continued, voice dropping to a whisper. "Voldemort made —" and he paused when Lucius flinched, "the name?" Regulus questioned. "Still? Despite him being dead you flinch at a name you fucking — WHERE!?" he shouted, finally snapping, gripping the back of Lucius's head, a handful of blonde hair in one hand that shoved the other man forward, wand pressed to the based of Lucius's head as he was shoved down a long stretch of hallway. "Show me where my daughter bled out on your floors. Show me the exact spot where you stood and watched while an innocent girl —"

"It was war!" Lucius shouted as he was forcefully led through his own home under threat, "and we thought she was a Mud —"

"Innocent girl!" Regulus snapped. "Blood status doesn't mean anything, you stupid, stupid fuck!"

The fight had echoed throughout the Manor and Narcissa stepped into the hall, a terrified expression on her face. At the sight of the man assaulting her husband, her eyes filled with tears. "Regulus . . . my gods . . . Regulus you're alive."

Pausing only a moment in his attack, Regulus smiled at his cousin. "Cissy, you're as beautiful as you ever were," he told her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I was just having a chat with your husband," he added and turned his attention back to Lucius as the pair entered a large room that was magically sealed off. Regulus broke down the wards with a swift flick of the wand and stepped inside, looking around as he spoke. "I give a hair for your excuses, Lucius. My daughter was tortured, broken, and carved under your watch while you tried to get your own son to betray her."

Regulus scanned the room, remembering that this was the place where he'd taken the Mark. Where he'd made his first kill. The chandelier was missing and it seemed that the floors had been stripped, but this was the place. It reeked of Dark magic.

"Don't talk to me about betrayal, Regulus!" Lucius angrily hissed. "We were brothers and you abandoned us all!"

Regulus turned back, stepping away from Lucius and pulling up the sleeve of his robe to point at the faded Dark Mark on his skin. "This? This mark?" he asked. "This didn't make us brothers. The love I knew you had for your wife made us brothers. Being Slytherin made us brothers. Lucius, this," he said and beat a fist against his chest, just over his heart, "made us brothers! And you betrayed it and me! I gave you Narcissa with my blessing under the conditions that you were to care for her and instead you allow that monster to remain in your house, enslave your family, and brand your son. I'm fairly certain I could figure out a loophole that would make taking Narcissa _back _perfectly legal. Maybe if you just up and died —"

"Regulus, no!" Narcissa pleaded.

Lucius growled as he was forced to his knees by the younger wizard. "You wouldn't dare."

Regulus took a long moment and stared, uncaring into the eyes of his former friend, his mentor. He slowly shook his head, agreeing with the man. "No. Because despite being the Death Eater that you were, Narcissa loves you. Just as my wife loved me despite my sins."

"Reggie!" Sirius shouted, appearing in the doorway of the drawing room next to Narcissa with Severus, Remus, Hermione, and Draco in tow.

Regulus swished the wand quickly, blocking their entrance. "Go away, Sirius, I'm quite busy."

Sirius snarled. "He's warded the fucking room! With my own wand!"

"Regulus, stop!" Draco shouted. "You don't want to do this! I know . . . I've wanted to hurt him to for what happened to Hermione but . . . but Bellatrix is dead and harming an unarmed wizard will only —"

"Make me feel very . . . very . . . pleased," Regulus said, glaring down at the blonde before him. "I've enough blood on my hands, so I won't kill you," he said quietly. "But I was always a dab hand at a good Crucio, wasn't I? You should know. You taught me," he said through clenched teeth.

"Papa, no!" Hermione screamed.

Regulus pulled the wand away instantly at the sound of his daughter's cry. His face softened and he leaned forward, whispering in Lucius's ear. "Do you hear that, Lucius? That is the sound of a Muggle-raised blood-traitor . . . your angel of mercy." And then he stood, pushing himself away from Lucius and dropping the wards of the room. He tossed Sirius his wand and watched as Narcissa rushed into the room, wrapping her arms around her husband, sobbing with relief. He closed his eyes remembering how Marlene used to do the same when he'd return, beaten and bloodied after revels. "You should thank the gods that the Muggles who raised Hermione instilled in her a sense of compassion," Regulus said to Lucius. "She didn't get that from me."

He walked through the group at the door, not looking at any of them, strong emotions long buried trying to crawl their way out of his throat. He wanted more than anything to disappear behind the Animagus consciousness and forget it all, but he was honestly afraid to shift in such a stressful circumstance, the worry of ending up stuck again lingering in the back of his mind.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a small hand took his own. "You have to forgive him," Hermione whispered.

He looked down at his daughter, unshed tears in his eyes. His attention was drawn first to the scar on her neck and then the other on her arm. He pulled her quickly against him, resting his cheek on her head as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Have you?" he whispered.

She actually chuckled. "I'm working on it."

Regulus sighed, feeling a sense of relief pour over him. She'd called him Papa. She was hugging him. She was there and alive and safe and in his arms. "You let me know when you have, I'll see what I can do," he promised.

"You're a hypocrite," Lucius spat.

Narcissa glowered down at her husband. "Lucius, be quiet."

"No!" he snapped. "He acts as though I _forced _his hand. As though he is any better than I am. We were all Death Eaters, one in the same."

Draco stepped between Lucius and Regulus before another fight broke out, this time without wands, a fight he was certain Regulus would win. "Not the same, father. I can only hope that you learn the difference."

Lucius sneered at his own son, looking positively betrayed. "And how are you three any different from me?" he angrily asked, flicking his hand toward Regulus, Severus, and Draco.

"Remorse," Severus replied with a bitter sigh.

"Regret," Regulus said softly, closing his eyes as he held onto his daughter.

Draco stared at his own father, tilting his chin up and holding himself tall. "Repentance," he answered.

Lucius stood in silence at their words and watched as the group turned to leave Malfoy Manor.

"Come on, Papa, let's go home," Hermione said, keeping an arm around her father as they walked toward the front door to Disapparate.

He shook his head. "No. I'd . . . I'd like to see Marley's grave."

oOoOoOo

Sirius, Remus, Severus, and Draco had all returned to Hogwarts after making sure that both Narcissa and Lucius weren't injured. Hermione, meanwhile, Apparated her father to Godric's Hollow, to the cemetery where Harry had placed a headstone next to his own parents, for hers.

"It's beautiful," Regulus whispered, running his finger over the engraving of Marlene's name. "She would have liked this. She loved Lily and James Potter. They were good friends of hers. I think . . . Marley would have liked to have her name here beside them," he said softly.

Hermione frowned. "I wish she had kept diaries," she confessed. "I . . . it was easier, learning to know you, to . . . to love you . . . because I had your words. But —"

"I'll tell you about her," Regulus promised. "You can have as many of my memories for a Pensieve if you'd like as well. You'll know her. I won't let you forget your mother," he vowed.

Hermione smiled and hugged him close.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Regulus cleared his throat. "You must thank young Mister Potter for me."

"Call him Harry."

He nodded and then remembered her words at Malfoy Manor. "Will you . . . will you continue to call —"

"You're my father," Hermione said firmly and smiled when she felt Regulus relax against her. "Should I remove your name from the headstone, Papa?"

"No," he shook his head. "Remove the date of death. When I eventually die, I want to be brought here. I know she's not . . . but . . . I want to be here with her in spirit. This will be my final resting place. It's beautiful."

oOoOoOo

**June 1999**

Graduation was a calm affair. So close to the anniversary of the final battle, few felt like celebrating with wild abandon. Instead they'd all just worked through their final exams, spent the rest of the school year lounging by the lake and laughing, enjoying one another's company — though Hermione and Draco did make use of the Room of Requirement once or twice — and then planned for their eventual departure.

Regulus welcomed his daughter, his graduate, with open arms as she approached him leaning up against the gate that surrounded Hagrid's pumpkin patch, a place he'd enjoyed visiting from time to time, reminiscing about strange time with the half-giant. "Seven N.E.W.T.s!" Regulus said with a grin and kissed her forehead. "I could not be prouder."

"What if I'd gotten eight?" Hermione questioned.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, of course then."

"She would have had another mental breakdown if she'd had to study for eight," Harry said as he approached the pair, a grin on his face.

"Hush up, Harry."

The boy laughed and then looked back at the lingering crowd spread out over the grounds. "I have to go and meet Pansy's parents," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'll see you on the boats to go back across, right Hermione?"

She nodded. "I'll be there."

"Regulus," Harry said, shaking the man's hand, "you're coming to the Burrow for the party?"

He nodded. "I'll be there," he said and they both watched as Harry walked away, only to get caught up in a large hug from Sirius before making his way toward the stiff looking couple standing near his no-longer-secret girlfriend.

"What happens after?" Hermione questioned as she and her father walked down toward the lake, smiling as they saw Hagrid preparing the boats for the graduating students to sail back across toward Hogsmeade station.

"Severus has decided to retire from teaching, and he's coming back with me to Grimmauld Place," Regulus told her. "Sirius is going to stay here at Hogwarts with Lupin, even if McGonagall sees reason and finds a decent Transfiguration instructor," he added and they shared a good chuckle. "He hates the old house, and I'd like to try and fix it up. Plus, I'd like to see Kreacher."

Hermione smiled. "He'll be so happy."

He turned and looked at her. "And are you coming home with me?"

She paused and bit her lower lip nervously. "I . . . Severus actually gave me Iliad Cottage. Me and Draco," she said and smiled looking up as she saw her boyfriend approaching, he was, however, frowning and looking a bit uneasy.

"I won't . . . umm . . . I won't be going with you."

Hermione's mouth fell open and she let go of her father to reach out for Draco's hands. "What? Why not?"

"I . . . what were you planning on doing after Hogwarts, Hermione?" Draco asked.

She shook her head. "I was . . . well I've actually been offered an Apprenticeship with Professor McGonagall. Blacks are naturally talented at transfiguration," she added and Regulus chuckled. "But she said I didn't have to live at Hogwarts and that I could have the Floo at Iliad Cottage connected to the school and —"

Draco let out a heavy breath. "I suppose I could just live off . . . and Apparate if there's an official . . ."

"Draco, what's going on?"

He swallowed hard and then whispered. "I got in."

"Got in where?"

"I . . . I wanted it to be a surprise," he said and handed her an envelope that he'd stashed in the pocket of his robes. "I wanted to know what to do with my money and the businesses that are connected to my family and . . . but I don't trust Lucius and I don't know what I'm doing. So I asked Severus and he and I have been working on getting the paperwork for it . . . and I got in."

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at the letter that she'd pulled from the envelope. "Draco? Draco this is a _Muggle _University! You got in!" she squealed with shocked delight and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck in excitement. "I'm so proud of you!"

Draco breathed a sigh of relief and then looked over Hermione's shoulder at Regulus who was grinning at him. "Congratulations, son," the man said. "Your . . . _mother _will be very proud of you," he said with a chuckle.

Draco nodded, rolling his eyes a touch at the specification. "Thanks. She is," he clarified. "I got an owl from her this afternoon."

Regulus nodded and then kissed Hermione on the top of her head before stepping away to go find Severus, allowing the young couple a moment alone to enjoy the last few minutes of their time at Hogwarts.

Hermione pulled away from Draco and looked up into his silver eyes. "And your father?" she asked with a nervous tone.

Draco smirked. "Sooo very pissed off," he said and Hermione laughed at his attitude.

They walked, hand in hand, along the lake, every so often looking over at the crowd where their friends were celebrating with one another and the families that had come to offer congratulations. Daphne was perched on Theo's back as he carried her from group to group to greet friends and families, Daphne's parents and younger sister, Astoria, were smiling at the couple.

Ron and Luna were speaking to Xeno Lovegood, while Ginny and Neville were attempting to sneak away from their feuding mothers, likely arguing about the details of their children's relationship and a potential betrothal contract that Augusta Longbottom would insist upon, regardless of Molly's refusal.

Blaise — poor Blaise — was being yelled at by both Patil twins over something that Hermione and Draco couldn't make out, but two slaps across the face indicated that the relationship was certainly over. Harry seemed to be doing better, hand in hand with Pansy as he was introduced to her parents, Sirius and Remus lingering not far behind.

Hermione took a deep breath and leaned her head against Draco's shoulder. "Start of our lives."

Draco nodded, gently touching the pearl necklace she never took off. "Big start. Lots of changes," he agreed and then with a teasing grin asked, "You want to marry me?"

Hermione stopped walking and pulled away from him, her grey eyes wide as she stared at his smug face. She paused and looked at his hands, noticing a lack of any small box, not entirely knowing how she felt about it.

"Are you actually asking?"

* * *

**A/N**: So a few people are wondering why Lucius is a target when it was Bellatrix who hurt Hermione. I think of it a lot like the scene at the end of OotP where Harry blows up at Dumbledore. Did Dumbles kill Sirius? No, that was Bella, but Bella isn't there and Harry needs to be angry at someone and Dumbles sure as hell didn't help the situation. Lucius, Severus, Regulus, and Draco are all one in the same but at various stages. Each was a DE, mostly to protect someone but each with at least a small mount of prejudice at one point or another. Some have completely grown out of it, others are clinging to their old habits and denying their faults. Lucius isn't the villain, he's just another broken DE that hasn't figured it all out yet.


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

**A/N**: There's a nod to another Pureblood!Hermione fic in this final chapter, for those who haven't read _The Muddy Princess_ by **Colubrina**, you should totally do that. It's amazing. Thank you all so much for following this little story. I knew I wanted to tackle a bunch of the HP tropes, and Pureblood!Hermione was on my list. It was only when I was forced to let Regulus die in another story that I realised I desperately wanted him to live, and I decided to pair the two together. Super happy that I did. Remember to follow, fave, and follow me on Twitter and tumblr (shayalonnie) where you can continue to ask me questions if you'd like, and for updates on future fics.

A HUGE thank you to my devoted Beta, Fluffpanda, my Skype live-reader Courbeau, and to my Witch Perfect girls who were the best cheerleaders ever: Colubrina, glittergrrrl05, Brightki, Palmetto Blue, Kiwiambrosia, Pagan Ianthe, and Sweet Trufflepuff.

Shaya

* * *

**Presque Toujours Pur**

_Almost Always Pure_

Epilogue

_Finis_

* * *

**2012**

"You look beautiful, Hermione," Ginny said with a smile as she adjusted the silver comb in Hermione's hair, holding the shiny black locks in place. "It's not a traditional dress, but then again, there's not much about _this _wedding that's traditional."

Hermione laughed. "Draco and I insisted. I don't care what anyone says, pureblood traditions are all outdated sexist things. Did you know some of the centerpieces were supposed to include eggs?"

"Eggs?" Ginny laughed.

Hermione nodded. "Eggs. Some fertility thing."

"Merlin, help us," Ginny said, eyes wide. "Not like any of _us _need help with that," she added and rubbed her distended stomach. "Your godson, by the way, is a right monster," she declared.

"He's half Weasley," Hermione said with a grin. "You're likely to have another Fred or George cooking in there," she teased, looking in the mirror to adjust her mother's pearls while securing her ruby earrings; birthday gifts from Draco the year before.

"He's also half Longbottom. I was hoping for a nice quiet pregnancy, thank you," Ginny insisted. "You ready? Wedding of the century, up ahead."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Should be interesting."

oOoOoOo

She made her way down the long aisle, her eyes instantly searching out Draco at the other end, smiling up at her as he stood next to Harry, Ron, and Sirius. When she reached the end, Draco held his hand out to her and kissed her cheek, muttering, "You're gorgeous," before passing her off to stand next to her friends and uncle, turning to walk to the other side of the aisle to stand opposite the collected Gryffindors.

Sirius leaned in and whispered. "You sure you don't want this for yourself?"

Hermione snorted. "I'm having a hard enough time with people looking at me right now. I'd prefer to not be the center of attention, thank you."

"Welcome to my life," Harry mumbled and wiped the nervous sweat from his brow as the audience all stood when the bride appeared at the far end of the aisle, her dark hair pinned up with a mixture of silver and gold pins, looking down at Harry with a teasing grin. "No one tell Pansy but instead of taking a Portkey to our honeymoon, we're flying on a Muggle aeroplane."

Ron laughed. "She's going to kill you, mate," he said, watching as Pansy readied herself to walk down the aisle, adjusting her father's dress robes and tie.

Harry shrugged. "She'll be my wife by that point," he said with a chuckle, letting his inner Slytherin show.

Daphne reached the end of the aisle to join Draco on Pansy's side — a wizard as an extra bridesmaid because Pansy thought herself very clever, then again, Hermione stood with Harry. Daphne smiled as her and Theo's seven-year-old daughter, Thessaly, followed behind, tossing rose petals in her wake. Behind Thessaly walked two boys, one taking precise steps in tune with the music, carrying the rings on a small pillow with such care it seemed as though they had been secured with a Sticking Charm — just in case. He stopped, only once, to blow the black strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes, and to look up at his father and grin.

Draco smirked back at the boy and then gestured for him to turn around. When he did, the boy sighed in irritation and rolled his eyes at his little brother who was stopping to pick up the rose petals that Thessaly had dropped. "Canis," he hissed at his younger, blonder counterpart who didn't look up at the call of his name. Eventually, the black-haired boy huffed, stomped his foot and turned around to march down to the end of the aisle, thrusting the pillow up at his father.

"Pst," Sirius said and crooked his finger, motioning the boy over. "C'mere, Al."

The boy sighed and looked down as he marched toward his great-uncle Sirius, purposely avoiding the looks that both his mother and father were giving him for throwing a fit at his aunt and uncle's wedding. Looking up into Sirius's eyes, he could almost tell what the man was going to say.

"What do we say about little brothers?" Sirius quietly asked.

Al sighed. "They never get left behind," he muttered, adding an, "I know, I know," before walking back down the aisle, offering Pansy an apologetic look before reaching out for his little brother, who — embarrassed — had crawled into their grandfather's lap as he sat beside their great-uncle Severus and their grandmother Narcissa — grandfather Lucius had remained behind at the Manor, still not entirely comfortable venturing out into public without the ability to carry a wand.

"Go with your brother, it's okay," Regulus said with a smile to little Canis, who had buried his face in his grandfather's dress robes, tiny rose petals still clutched in hand.

The two boys continued their march down the aisle, hand in hand this time. Young Alphard moved to stand beside Draco, adjusting his robes and taking a moment to readjust the rings on his pillow as his father handed it back to him, making sure they were adequately attached and precisely positioned, taking only a small moment to observe the runes that had been carved into the rings with great detail.

Draco sighed and looked up at Hermione and mouthed, "Ravenclaw," at her, gesturing to their eldest son.

She nodded and held back a chuckle as little Canis pressed a few rose petals into her hand, and then proceeded to offer one to Harry, Ron, Sirius, and then ran to the other side to give the rest to his father, Alphard, Thessaly, and Daphne. The audience all quietly laughed at the scene and Hermione smiled, looking up at Draco and mouthing, "Hufflepuff."

He shrugged and then sighed, acknowledging the very, very obvious.

Pansy and Harry exchanged vows they'd written themselves, smiling happily as their friends and family stood with them in support.

Hermione and Draco had been pestered for years, starting immediately after graduation, as to when they'd be planning their inevitable wedding. Excuses came and went as one by one — or pair by pair as it was — each of their friends took their own trips down the aisle. First Ron to Luna, followed by Daphne and Theo shortly after leaving Hogwarts. Two years after that Ginny and Neville made the trip, and even Blaise had settled down with a Muggle he'd met at a coffee shop who always gave him an extra shot of vanilla in his daily latte.

Hermione and Draco initially said that they didn't want to rush. Too much needed to take precedence, first and foremost, the restoration of Regulus as the Head of House Black. Sirius gave up the title and then celebrated. Their next excuse was that they wanted to wait for Draco to graduate from University followed by Hermione receiving her Mastery in Transfiguration. Her article on the Animagus and Patronus affiliations was well received in multiple magical publications as she'd eventually achieved a full Animagus form of her own — still a kneazle — but had managed to keep her otter Patronus.

An otter Patronus that Draco shared once he'd finally been able to accurately perform the charm.

Babies started coming after that and it gave a decent excuse for Hermione and Draco to hold off on a wedding. None of her potential bridesmaids wanted to be pregnant at the ceremony. When Hermione got pregnant herself with Alphard, Lucius demanded that the pair do the right thing by getting married before the new Malfoy heir was born.

Hermione and Draco defiantly refused and then, just to drive the point home that the world had changed, they gave their firstborn son, the Malfoy heir, the middle name "Granger".

Lucius had made slow steps toward adjusting to the new world, but having his firstborn grandson named after a Muggle was a step too far. He and Draco had gotten into their now yearly argument over it and Draco gave his father the ultimatum: adapt to the new world, or he would do something utterly Mugglish with the Malfoy fortune, for which he was still in charge of.

Lucius had called his bluff.

He _really _shouldn't have.

The home for war orphans and the primary school for Muggle-born children were both built and fully funded within six months and the Malfoy scholarships for Muggle-born wizards and witches was established two months after that. Lucius never spoke another word about it.

When Canis Severus came along two years later, born with hair as white-blonde as his father, Draco and Hermione fulfilled the promise of the Blood Magic they were tied to, that said _both _families would continue through their union, and their second son became a Black instead of a Malfoy.

"It'll be confusing to have two sons with different last names," Lucius insisted, but Hermione and Draco laughed and assured him that _somehow_, the boys would remember that they were brothers, belonging to the same parents; the same family.

Canis's last name was less of an issue for everyone else, but Severus threw an absolute fit at the idea of _any _child being named after him. They'd settled on a middle name which kept him annoyed but silent until Harry suggested that _he _would name his own child after the man, finding it amusing to provoke his old Potions Master.

More years passed and when Harry and Pansy announced their engagement, all the parents quietly sat Draco and Hermione down and asked when they were going to fulfill the Blood Magic created contract between the pair.

The two had smiled at their respective parents, Draco had taken Hermione's hand in his and said, "Fuck the contract."

oOoOoOo

After Harry and Pansy's wedding, the family returned to Grimmauld Place where Narcissa had long since taken over, insisting that if Regulus and Severus refused to remarry — or marry in the first place in Severus's case — then she would have to do all their decorating for them. Previously black and grey walls were painted over cream with hunter green accents throughout the house. Walburga Black's portrait was removed — after three years, six specially hired Curse-Breakers, a case of firewhisky and both Black brothers drinking themselves unconscious in celebration. The family tapestry also, thanks to Regulus and Hermione's diligent charm work — though they were both much more talented at transfiguration — was repaired, returning Sirius and Andromeda to their rightful places.

Hermione smiled, standing in front of the old tapestry, doing her best to ignore her two boys who were chasing one another from room to room, giggling as they were followed by an old black dog nipping at their heels. She stepped forward, touching her hand to the beautiful black stitching, connecting her name to those of her children and Draco, to her father and mother, as well as her Muggle parents, who had been a personal addition to the tapestry by Regulus himself; a gift for Hermione's twentieth birthday.

Sirius and Remus were there, connected to one another on the tapestry and linked to the Muggle-born son they had adopted four years earlier, who they named James Black Lupin. A few names away sat Harry, there against the fabric in beautiful lettering, his marriage to Pansy already reflected in the magic of the large family tree.

Hermione ran her finger over an empty space next to Alphard and Canis, a secretive smirk toying at her lips. "What do you think?" she whispered, her free hand brushing against her stomach. "Are you going to be a Black, a Malfoy, or a Granger?"

"What was that?" Draco asked as he stepped into the room.

"What?" Hermione jumped, startled by his entrance. "Nothing."

He stared at her. "What're you hiding?"

She smiled. "What makes you think I'm hiding something?"

"Because you're a terrible liar," Draco insisted. "Will I be upset?" he asked. "Did one of the boys break something?"

Hermione laughed and kissed him. "Nothing to worry about, I promise."

He eyed her suspiciously but relented and returned her affection. "Come on then. Potter and Pansy will be here any minute and Weasley and I finally figured out how to rig their luggage. When they get to the hotel and open the suitcase, no less than fifty Snitches will release into the air. Let's see how fast he can catch all of those," he said with a grin that was far too smug and reminiscent of his younger self.

"I'll be right behind you, love," she said with a laugh and smiled as Draco left the room, passing her father on his way out.

"Do I want to know?" Regulus asked.

She shook her head. "Boys and their toys," she said and smiled as he walked up beside her, looping an arm around her and pulling her close so that he could kiss the top of her head. "Can you keep a secret, Papa?"

"Many," he replied.

Hermione smirked. "I'm pregnant again."

Regulus laughed and hugged her close. "I take it Draco doesn't know?"

She shook her head. "I'm going to surprise him later. Can you watch the boys?"

"I'd be happy to."

"It's a girl," she whispered. "I'm going to name her Helen."

Regulus smiled and held her closer, the pair of them taking a deep breath together, releasing it as the brief sting of grief and healing fell over them at once. "That's a fine name," he whispered and kissed her forehead, turning his attention back to the tapestry, no longer dark and dreary as it once had seemed not so long ago.

He reached out and touched the tapestry, his own name which had been charmed back to have the death date erased, still leaving behind a strange fade in the fabric, marking the fact that the stitching had been there at one point. Regulus smiled and traced the line connecting him to his daughter and her family, a part of the tapestry he had once believed he'd never see properly filled.

But there they stood, all etched in along with everyone else, connected to her, the one point on a single tapestry that changed everything in Regulus's world, his daughter's name on the wall in elegant lettering:

_Hermione Granger Black_


End file.
